


Playing With Fire

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Deception, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was going to try to not make this a chapter story, but, here we go again...</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to try to not make this a chapter story, but, here we go again...

"Hey, let's meet up for lunch and some ninja photography," my friend Hallie texted me.

"Sounds like a plan," I answered, "Dante's?"

"Yup :-). " 

It had been a while since I'd seen her. We'd worked closely, but hadn't gotten together since I started a new job. It was 10 in the morning, so I had a couple hours to get ready and get there. I showered and dressed, packed my camera equipment in my bag and ate a quick breakfast of a bagel with a cup of tea.

As I rushed out the door, I called my husband at work. "Hey, Baby," he answered, "what's up?"

I fumbled with my car keys. "Sorry," I apologized for the noise, "I was just calling to let you know I'm meeting Hallie downtown and I don't know when I'll be home. We might catch dinner or something after."

He sighed audibly. "Alright, " he groaned, "I guess this means I fend for myself for dinner. I'll probably hit up Ed and go to the bar for dinner."

I flinched. I knew how much he hated bar food, but I also knew he was trying to make me feel guilty. "Well, don't eat too much of that crap, you'll end up making yourself sick."

"Ok, I love you," he replied before hanging up.

I was slightly late in meeting Hallie, since I had to fight for parking, but, once I found a spot that was valid for more than 60 minutes, I set off. The cafe we were meeting at was a good three blocks away, so I texted her, "Hey, on my way, parking sucks."

"What street are you on?" she replied.

Glancing up at the nearest street sign, I answered, "4th and Main."

"Be right there :) " I hadn't expected her to meet me halfway, but it meant that I wouldn't have to backtrack if we decided to stay in the neighborhood I was in.

I was in the midst of photographing an interesting mural near a community garden, when a pair of hands covered my eyes. "Boo!" she whispered.

"Very funny," I chuckled as she took her hands off my face and I turned around. "Where did you want to go today?"

Hallie bit her lip and thought for a moment. "The Plaza might be a good place to start."

"I was hoping you'd say that," I smiled. The Plaza was smack dab in the center of the city and really was one of the most interesting places. There were fountains everywhere, including one you could walk on, always performers and buskers for entertainment, and even sculptures and food stands. It really had everything, and it was only a few blocks away.

We walked arm in arm, occasionally stopping to take photographs of something that captured out artistic interests. By the time we reached The Plaza, I was starving, having just had the small breakfast. "Are you up for Mexican?" I asked as I closed my eyes and inhaled the mouth watering smells that wafted around us.

"Sure," she answered, distracted. I turned to look at her and followed her gaze to a tall man looking up at one of the buildings. "Isn't that...?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, couldn't be, could it?" I couldn't see his features well, the bright sunlight obscuring them as I squinted and tried not to be so obvious that I was ogling him. He lifted a hand and shielded his own eyes, scrutinizing something on the building and that was the dead giveaway. He was wearing jeans, a blue button-up shirt and a pair of beat-up cowboy boots that I recognized from photos I had seen of him.

"Oh, it is," Hallie hissed in my ear. "You should go say hi." She put her hand in the middle of my back and nudged me forward, surprising me enough that I lost my balance and began to fall.

With a screech, I hit the sidewalk, one hand out, the other cradling my precious camera. "Hallie!" I yelled. "What the fuck?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't mean to do it that hard," she huffed. "Sorry."

I sat on the cement and inspected the scrape across my hand. "You could at least help me up," I mumbled, holding my non-injured hand up and bracing myself. The hand that grabbed it was not Hallie's, it was much stronger. Startled, I followed the long fingers that wrapped around mine to the slender wrist, to the muscular arm, to the face with a reassuring smile and kind eyes.

"Let me," he said to Hallie. She stepped out of his way and giggled as he helped me to my feet.

Once I was completely upright, his grip loosened and transformed into a handshake. "Sorry for the confusion," he smirked. "I'm Tom."

"Lora," I replied. "I know who you are." As I pulled my hand from his and rubbed the scrape on the other, I wryly added, "That's part of the problem," as I shot a look of spite at Hallie.

Tom looked confused. "How is that a problem?"

I took a deep breath. "Hallie, here," I slapped her on the back of her shoulder, "thought I should say hi. She gave me just a little too much of a nudge."

Hallie sucked in her breath, hating that I had called her out. "I really didn't mean it," she exhaled.

"I forgive you," I sighed, then looked at Tom, "If I can convince you to join us for lunch."

"What's for lunch?" he grinned and shot a surreptitious wink in my direction.

In tandem, Hallie and I both announced, "Mexican truck."

He answered with his trademark "Ehehehe" and said, "Lead away, ladies." We directed him to the other side of The Plaza where there was a line of food trucks, wooden picnic tables and customers milling around waiting for their orders. "This smells Heavenly," he mused as we got in line.

When we finally got our food ordered, Tom's treat because he insisted, we grabbed the first available table and sat down, waiting for lunch to be ready. "So, what brings you to our fair city?" I asked.

"Actually, I'm scheduled to begin filming here in a couple days," he replied. "I'll be here for a couple months."

"And they let you walk around all by yourself?" Hallie interjected. I could see the hearts forming in her eyes as she stared him down.

Tom shifted uncomfortably. "They do." He pursed his lips. "I'm not as famous here, apparently."

Our number was called and Tom and I both stood up to grab our order from the window. "I've got it," I announced.

Before I got too far, he stopped me. "I've got two good hands," he cracked, holding both of his up in front of me.

I huffed, "Ok, you win," before returning to my seat.

"He's even better looking in real life!" Hallie gushed while he was out of earshot.

I shook my head. "It's a good thing you're single, then, isn't it?" She and I had bonded over our mutual attraction to the man, but the inside joke was that, were we to ever meet him, which seemed highly unlikely at the time, she would be able to have her way with him since I was married.

"Yeah," she giggled, her face turning a lovely shade of red.

Tom returned to the table, arms laden with boxes of steaming Mexican food. Setting them on the table, he noticed Hallie's blush. "I take it I'm the topic of conversation," he said as he noticed Hallie averting her eyes. 

"It's just a little inside joke," I answered, hoping to give Hallie a little breathing room. "You see, she's single... and... well... use your imagination."

Without skipping a beat, his eyes narrowed and he mouthed, "Oh."

After that, lunch was a tad less comfortable, Tom and I exchanging stories, having an easy go at acting like civilized human beings having a conversation and enjoying ourselves. Hallie, however, was still embarrassed and could only mumble one-word answers as we asked her questions. By the time we were done eating, she had totally shut down, her usually boisterous personality silenced by awkwardness. As we stood to leave the table, she squeaked, "I've gotta go," and scurried into the bustle of a nearby crowd.

Since she had left without much warning, I was worried. I pulled out my phone and texted her. "Is everything alright with her?" Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm not sure," I answered, concentrating on the phone screen. "What happened?" I typed.

When she finally got back to me, he and I were strolling through The Plaza like old friends. He was enjoying my photographic eye, pointing out interesting things for me to shoot, looking at the result on the tiny screen on the back of my camera. "You are really a talented photographer," he complemented. "Do you do this for a living?"

I shook my head. "Used to," I replied, "Now it's just a hobby."

My phone in my pocket buzzed and I pulled it out, flipping on the screen. Hallie had replied with, "I froze. Good luck." Peeved, I cleared my throat and shoved the device back in.

"Was that Hallie?" he asked, stopping and looking down at me.

"Yep," I answered, pursing my lips. "She's fine, but there goes my dinner plans." 

The disappointment must have shown on my face because his eyes softened. "I'm free if you'd like to have dinner with me."

That took me entirely by surprise."Su... sure," I stuttered, "I mean, if you're okay with that. I don't want to seem like this needy fan." I felt my mind begin to deluge me with words that poured out of my mouth. "I mean, I'm not that kind of fan. It's just been wonderful walking around and getting to know you as, you know, a person, not this character on screen and it's been ... nice."

He was gazing thoughtfully down at me as I spoke and took a moment once I'd finished saying my piece. "I know," he finally said. "It has been nice. In fact, I feel more like old friends." He took my hands in his, his index finger on his right hand unconsciously brushing over my wedding ring with small circles. "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

There was something in the tone of his voice, something with how he looked at me that made it difficult to say no. I gave up. "Alright," I answered, "But on one condition."

"What's that?" he asked.

I smiled. "You let me pay."

"Deal."

We shook on it, but for some reason, there was something different in that hand shake than the one he had originally greeted me with. It felt as though he didn't want to let go.

The rest of the day, we spent wandering the streets of downtown, ducking into hole-in-the-wall antique shops, me with my camera, Tom looking for specific vintage books. He would surprise me with a volume of something I'd never heard of, all dusty and smelling like it came from a little old woman's attic, reciting pieces from it like he had memorized it already. I could easily imagine spending more time with him like that, getting to know each other, sharing stories. It was something I'd missed with my husband. We'd married so young that we were each others' stories. Whenever I would mention Paul, there would be a moment when a flash of melancholy would pass over Tom's face. I had asked what was wrong, but Tom played it off like he was concentrating on something. 

I knew there was something else eating at him. That something else didn't come out until we were done eating dinner. We had chosen a little Italian place, nothing fancy, just hearty Italian cuisine. Tom and I were the only ones in the cafe, save the staff, and the girl who seated us mistook us for a couple. She placed us at a small table in the back corner of the dining room, just barely large enough for the two of us. I chided Tom about his long legs and how I had seen photos of him with them stretched apart. "There will be none of that," I warned.

He threw his hands up with mock-surrender and laughed, "No, no, I promise!" Then, holding up two fingers, added, "Scout's honor." 

When dinner came, we had both ordered spaghetti and meatballs and, of course, there came the obligatory Lady and the Tramp references, complete with Tom slurping his last noodle, which promptly hit him in the nose leaving a red splat of marinara sauce behind. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics, feeling myself so utterly charmed by him. My comfort level with him was enough that, as I pulled my hands off the table and leaned back, one of them landed on his upper thigh. I thought nothing of it until he stopped laughing himself. My eyes had been closed, full of happy tears, when I felt the space around us change. It was just ever-so-slightly, not enough to make a huge difference, but enough to feel heavy. I opened my eyes and found that he was watching me, gazing at me, gauging me, studying me. I rubbed my nose. "Do I have something on my face?" I asked, alarmed. "Or in my teeth?"

Tom shook his head. "No, you're fine."

"Well, what then?" I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He took a deep breath. "I think we should be going," he said quietly. "I'd love to spend another day with you, if you don't mind?"

"I had fun today," I replied. "It would be great to do it again, though maybe a different part of the city?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Can I have your number so we can arrange things in the morning?" I nodded and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of my camera bag and scrawled my number on it. As he grabbed it from me, he tucked it into his shirt pocket. "Are you ready?"

I grabbed my camera bag from the back of the chair and stood from the table. "Let's go," I said.

While we had sat in the cafe, it had grown dark. The only light left was the sulfur-colored light from the streetlamps and the cool blue tone of neon and the headlights of passing cars. I shivered, realizing that I should have brought a coat or at least a hoodie with me. "Brrrr," I shivered, rubbing my arms with my hands.

"Where are you parked?" he asked. Without even thinking, he wrapped his long arms around my shoulders and began to rub my arms with his hands.

"About three blocks from here," I sighed. I wanted to shrug out of his embrace, but I didn't want to, as well. It felt nice, this little bit of chivalry between us. I must have enjoyed it just a little too much because I found myself snuggling into his side, smiling.

"I'll walk you to your car," he announced. "I'd hate to have you alone on a night like this."

I didn't notice, but with the darkness had also come gathering clouds and as we walked, the winds began to whip my hair around. "A night like this," I muttered. "What a night this is," just as the clouds burst and unleashed a torrent of rain. We tried ducking under awnings as we walked, dodging the storm as best as we could, but realized the futility of it when water warmed by our scalps began running down our faces. So, we danced in the rain, Tom spinning me around, keeping me moving, keeping himself going, so we wouldn't feel the cold.

By the time we reached my car, we were thoroughly soaked, but we were laughing, holding our bellies, howling at the humor of the situation. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, opened the door and threw my camera bag in the back seat. "Since you were nice enough to escort me to my car, dear sir, would you like a ride to your hotel?" I asked.

Tom cocked his head and grinned. "Actually, my hotel is just across the street." He hiked his thumb towards the huge slate and glass building that loomed behind him.

"The Hilton, nice," I said appreciatively. "Well, this is where I leave you, then." 

He approached me as I held out my arms for a hug and leaned close to my ear. "Parting is such sweet sorrow,that I shall say good night till it be morrow," he whispered. The warmth of his breath against the cold wetness of my skin and the proximity of him made me waver.

"That could get me in trouble," I gasped.

"Is that so?" He stood more upright and held me so I had no choice but to look up at him. Cocking his eyebrow for a moment, he smiled softly. "Well, better not get in trouble then." 

I was mute and could do nothing but bob my head up and down, my chin rubbing against his chest, which only exacerbated the problem because it made the smell of him waft into my nose. "Okay," I peeped, "Tomorrow, then." I closed my eyes, trying to block out the thoughts that formed in my mind. I was full of "what if..." scenarios that wanted to make themselves known. Just as I pushed the thought of, "What if I hooked up with him? Paul would never know," from my brain, I felt the softness of Tom's lips brush against mine. I let out a slight moan right before my eyes flew open in alarm.

"Don't worry," he smiled as he let me go. "That was just a friendly kiss." He backed a couple paces away from me and bowed slightly. "Tomorrow," he grinned.

"Tomorrow," I answered as I got into my car. 

I watched him as he went into the hotel and leaned my head back against the seat. All I could think about was, "That really happened," and there wasn't another living soul I could tell about it.


	2. Chapter 2

My phone buzzed, alerting me to a text. I glanced down, forgetting who the number belonged to and was tempted to ignore it, my attention placed solely on stroking my husband's ego. I'd gotten home later than anticipated the night before and had faced the wrath of my neglected husband. He had gotten drunk at the bar with his buddies, one of which was gracious enough to be the designated driver and drop Paul off at home before I'd arrived. I'm not sure how long he'd waited for me, sulking in the dark in his easy chair, but he'd waited. The fact that I'd told him I would be home later had no bearing once I'd leaned down to give him a hug. I had selectively forgotten that I'd embraced Tom, that my clothing most likely held traces of Tom's cologne and that, in his inebriated state, Paul would misconstrue it. I had tried to explain it away, saying that Hallie and I had met up with an old college buddy and had invited him to dinner with us, but Paul didn't believe it. He'd stood up, grimaced at me and stomped out of the room. He had spent the entire night sulking in his man-cave. 

This morning, I had tried to reason with him while he was sober. "I'm married to you and I've never given you any reason to believe I might be unfaithful," I argued. He could only shrug, knowing that I was right, but he still held the chip on his shoulder. My main goal then became to prove that I loved him, which I did by making him breakfast, giving him a back massage and letting him take a long, hot, shower accompanied by an extraordinary blow job. He was pleased with my ministrations and, I hoped, everything would be wonderful for the rest of the day.

Of course, until the text, I'd been so consumed that I'd forgotten completely about promising to meet up with Tom. I flipped on the screen of my phone and saw the message, "What time would you like to meet up?" My heart skipped a beat and I hoped Paul hadn't heard the buzz as the message came through. "I'm a bit busy now," I typed back, "How about 2?" I looked at the clock before I hit send and saw that it was nearly noon already. There was a moment when I thought I should just tell him I'd have to meet him another day, or I could give him Hallie's number, but I didn't. I hit send.

Given that I'd been effectively ignored by Paul after I'd gotten home, my only outlet was to call Hallie and tell her what had happened after I left. I had expected that she'd be as ecstatic as I was, that she would ask about coming with me to meet Tom the next day, except she wasn't. She'd left her enthusiasm in the city streets, her only comment being a wry, "Just be careful, you're playing with fire."

"What?" I'd asked, confused. "Why would you say that?"

"Listen," she sighed, "I know you and Paul have had some rough times and, well, I'd hate to see you get hurt."

My protests about how Tom was just a new friend had fallen on deaf ears. Hallie knew the dark truth. Paul and I had, indeed, had some problems, most of them stemming from an affair he'd had years before. We had fought long and hard to gain the ground we had, even more for me to try and forgive the transgression and move on, but our love was strong enough that we were able to, and there had been no more instances like that. Recently, though, we'd been fighting again, mostly over money, and it had effected every facet of our lives. In the last year, we had morphed from a single unit, together against the world, to two individuals, and neither of us had noticed it happening. It started gradually, first with my yoga classes, then with his fantasy football league, until we seemed to be living two different lives. 

"It's just platonic," I said. "He's just asked me to show him around town tomorrow because we had such a blast today. I was hoping you would want to come."

The Hallie I knew would have jumped at the chance to hang out with her favorite celebrity for another day. "I'll pass," she replied nonchalantly. "I've got some other plans for the day."

"Paul," I called into the living room, "I'm meeting some of the girls from the office for coffee this afternoon." I was lying through my teeth and I began to sweat, hoping that he wouldn't notice the shake in my voice. 

"Don't be too late," he shouted back. "I've got Brandon and the guys coming over to watch the game at 5." 

The last thing I wanted to do was entertain his buddies. "I may just see if the girls want dinner, too," I answered. "You can entertain your own friends."

"Whatever," he grumbled. He knew that I was not up to being any sort of sports widow, yet, every time he had his friends over, he expected me to be the one to cater to their every need by bringing plates of food and beers from the fridge. "I'll just order pizza, then," he said.

Ignoring the obvious spite in his last comment, I went upstairs to ready myself. Even though I told myself that it was just two new friends seeing the sights, I found that my stomach fluttered with anticipation. I peeled myself out of the yoga pants and tank top I'd worn around the house and realized that the goosebumps forming on my skin were not from the temperature of the house, but memory of the night before, the whisper, the kiss. My initial outfit of choice was a pair of baggy jeans,a t-shirt and a pair of comfortable sneakers, something well-suited to spending the day in the city with a friend, but, in a last minute decision, took a pair of skinny jeans, a black wrap-shirt and pulled on a pair of knee-high riding boots. In my mind, I was still casual and comfortable, but elevated. I even made the effort to wear jewelry and a titch of make-up, which was something I rarely did.

I don't know what I was hoping for when I went back downstairs to say goodbye to Paul, but what I got was a bit of a cold shoulder. He was sitting in his easy chair, beer at the ready, remote in hand as he scanned through the channels to find the game he was going to watch and set a reminder. "I'll see you when I get home," I said as I leaned down and gave him a kiss. "I love you."

Paul kissed me back, begrudgingly, and grumbled something to the effect of, "Have fun," as I stood back up. I was disappointed that he hadn't even really looked at me, much less commented on how I looked. 

With a disappointed sigh, I grabbed my camera bag and my cell phone and left the house. After I got myself buckled into the car, I texted Tom, "On my way. Meet U at the hotel?"  
My answer came in the form of " :) "

Tom was standing outside as I arrived. I maneuvered the car through the U driveway at the front and unlocked the door so he could get in. "We're not going anywhere that's walking distance, are we?" he grinned as he sat down in the passenger seat. He had worn a red and blue flannel shirt, a blue hoodie, a pair of jeans and those same old worn cowboy boots he'd had on the previous day. Without missing a beat, he said, "You look wonderful, today."

My heart warmed with the complement, but it also made me sad. How was it that this man, nearly a stranger to me, could notice things like that and be nice about them when my own husband was blind to them? "Thanks," I answered, suddenly feeling very self conscious. "You don't look so bad, yourself." I turned my attention to the driveway and merging onto the street. "And, to answer your question, no we are not going somewhere that is walking distance."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Really? Where then?"

"The Arboretum," I smiled. "It's in full bloom, right now, and I thought you might enjoy it." 

"Sounds beautiful!" he exclaimed. 

We spent the twenty-minute drive engaged in a conversation that ran the gamut from flowers in our regional areas to favorite childhood activities and were surprised to learn that we'd had a lot in common. Both our parents had been divorced, though mine had split when I was seven, not when I was a teen, we both were the middle sibling, though I could tell Tom had just a bit of a jealous look in his eye when I told him about my two brothers. I assured him, it was not fun to be the sister in the middle and that I got picked on nearly every day of my life. He told me about setting up stages in the back yard and acting out plays with his cousins, I told him about my childhood affinity for advertising cleaning products in the bathroom mirror when I was supposed to be doing chores. By the time we arrived at the Arboretum and had found a parking spot, our eyes glistened with tears and our sides hurt from laughing so hard.

The Arboretum was several hundred acres of city land that had been preserved for the growth and study of plant species. It was one of my favorite places to photograph because, while the plants were always in the same place, it was always changing. What might be there one spring was guaranteed to not be there the next. It felt constant, yet fluid. Tom was immediately enthralled by the sights and the sounds. Since it was a week day, we nearly had the place to ourselves, only running into one or two other people as we traversed the trails through the wooded area and came upon the field in the center of the park. It was here that there was a duck pond surrounded by Japanese cherry trees. Their branches were heavy with pink blossoms and the pond was dappled with petals that had fallen. 

"This place is gorgeous," he mused as he watched me focus my camera on a heron that had landed in the pond. "I can't think of a better place to spend such a beautiful afternoon."

I got my photo and pulled the camera away from my face. "Yeah," I smiled, "It's so peaceful." I glanced over to him and shivered. He was watching me with the same gaze as he had the night before. "Would you like to maybe visit the Japanese Garden and see if they have openings for the tea ceremony?" I asked as I took a step backward. My foot caught on a rock and I stumbled, sure I was going to land on my ass.

Tom caught me, his arm around me in a flash, and he pulled me back up. "Are you alright?" he asked. He had his arm wrapped around my waist and it felt like h had no intention of moving it.

"Just a bit shaken," I nodded. "Thanks for the save." I squirmed away from him, feeling his blue eyes piercing me. I was sure he knew everything he needed to from the look in my eyes. 

He confirmed it by letting go of me. "You're welcome," he answered. "And, I would love to visit the Japanese Garden. I'd appreciate a good tea right now."

The Japanese Garden had a scheduled tea ceremony each day at four, when the staff would invite the public to partake in the ritual. Most of it involved women dressed like Geisha serving tea and food to the participants, each of which had paid $10 for the opportunity to be involved. All the money raised went to the Japanese Cultural Center. Since we were in the midst of spring, the ritual centered on the warmer months. Tom and I knelt on mats on the floor waiting to be served as custom warranted. I shot a quick glance at him as we sat and he was rapt, his eyes following the motions of the ceremony as the matcha was poured. When our tea had been served, we both closed our eyes and bowed our heads. Since neither of us had been to anything like this before, we followed suit with the other participants in silence. It was completely austere and yet entertaining, even as our legs began to cramp from kneeling.

"That was fantastic," Tom commented as we left the tea house. "I can't say anything but thank you for inviting me to be a part of that." Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed the side of my head. "You certainly know how to entertain a guy."

I chuckled. "That just didn't sound right," I said.

Tom's face turned red. "Sorry," he shrugged. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I know," I replied. "I'm just messing with you." I went to smack him on the back playfully, but, being a bit shorter, my aim was a little low and I ended up smacking him on the ass instead. As soon as it happened, my eyes widened and I sucked in my mouth. "My turn to say sorry," I said sheepishly. "I did not mean to smack your butt." I immediately felt guilty as my inner monologue said, "My what a fine butt it is, though."

He smiled at me, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't place. He leaned close enough to me that only I could hear what he was saying. "Or you really meant to smack my ass and hoped I would enjoy it," he whispered. 

"Oh, God," I thought as panic rose in my eyes. "He knows." Instead, I pushed him away and rolled my eyes. "Not likely," I said coolly.

He stood back up and held his hand over his heart. "Ouch," he mocked, "That hurt."

"Well, you deserved it, you cheeky Brit," I shot back with a grin, happy that things had gone back to light and playful. 

As we walked back to the car, I walked in front, pointing my camera at anything that caught my eye, while Tom followed behind. I wished I had eyes in the back of my head so I knew for sure what he was looking at because, while I hoped he was taking in the scenery, I imagined his gaze boring into me and it was far from uncomfortable. I wanted to watch him, gauge his reactions. I wanted to reach out and hold his arm or his hand and wander the grounds with him. And, dear lord, I wanted to kiss him. I felt both titillated and guilty, feeling like I was cheating on my husband with a man whom I'd barely even met, but who I was wildly attracted to. Hallie was right, I was playing with fire.

"Would you like to catch dinner again, tonight?" Tom asked as we climbed back into my car. "Maybe somewhere on the waterfront?"

"What did you have in mind?" I wondered. "Do you even know which place you'd like to go?"

He laughed. "I did some research online last night and there's this seafood place that is highly recommended," he replied. "Called Fisherman's Cove. You ever heard of it?"

"I have actually been there," I nodded. "My fifth anniversary, Paul and I went there."

There was that look again from him, the one that told me he wished that I hadn't mentioned my husband. "It must be good then," he said, his voice just a little less excited than it had been a moment before. "Would you care to join me?"

"Paul is having some buddies over to watch the game and I'd rather not spend my night catering to their every need," I explained.

"So?" He waited for a real answer.

I shrugged. "Okay, but this time, you're buying."

Tom smiled again, this time his shoulders slunk in relief. "Great!"

The Fisherman's Cove was not far from the Arboretum and it took us nearly no time to get there, however, there was a line and we found it would take another 45 minutes to get seated. "Would you like to walk around the waterfront?" I asked after I'd put my name on the list. 

"Sure," Tom answered. He was a bit more sullen than he'd been before, more introspective, but I don't think he noticed until I asked what was wrong. "Feeling a bit homesick," he responded. 

I nodded my head in understanding. "I can't imagine how lonely it gets, being away from your family and friends for such a long stretch," I sympathized. "I'd go stir crazy."

"You understand," he smiled, his face lighting up a little more. "All these connections I have, my family, my friends, all of them seem so tenuous when I'm away. I know they have lives as well, but I'm not there to witness them and I feel like I miss so much."

Taking a deep breath, I wanted to comfort him and, in my haste, reached down to grab his hand. "I'm sure they miss you, too." I gazed into his eyes. "I would."

That moment, that perfect moment, was the beginning of my world crumbling. We held hands, synapses firing in our brains, the electrical, chemical links between us blasting through whatever social codes had been beat into our heads. Tom leaned close to me, backing me up against the stone sea wall that guarded the boardwalk from the angry ocean waves, and kissed me. It wasn't like the fluttering kiss the night before, the one he'd sworn was friendly. This one was heated, full of emotion, passion, transcending time and space. I had sworn to myself that, were anything like that to happen, I would push him away, leave and be done with it, but, when the moment came, I lost my resolve, devolving into the basest of beings, operating solely on emotion and attraction and I enjoyed it.

When the moment was over, he stepped away, obviously embarrassed that he'd had any inclination to do that. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his free hand rubbing roughly over his lips and chin. "You're married and that was completely unacceptable."

"I'm awful," I groaned, leaning my head into his chest in a moment of intense guilt. "I enjoyed it."

I felt his chest shake as he chuckled. "You're not awful," he tried to reassure me. "I caught you at a weak moment."

Looking up at him, I smiled. "Right, and it will never happen again."

Tom shook his head with a smirk, then held our hands up, shaking mine. "Friends, then?" he said.

"Friends," I repeated. He made me want so much more than that, so I tried to conjure up an image of Paul to kill the feelings that were welling up inside. 

We returned to the restaurant just as my name was called. Our entire meal was spent trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Where our interactions had been completely natural before, now they were stilted. Instead of talking about what was bothering us, we ignored it by gorging ourselves on seafood and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Of course, the booze helped bring everything back to a comfortable level and, soon enough, we were carrying on, joking and dancing like old friends. We even moved our private party to a club that was down the block. It was fairly empty, but, between the drinks and the music, we didn't care. For all we knew, we were the only two people in the world and we liked it that way.


	3. Chapter 3

My head was pounding when I woke up, the effects of the alcohol I'd ingested bitterly apparent. I opened my eyes, but the sunlight streaming through the window made everything hurt worse. With a groan, I rolled over, my arm hitting the back of the person in bed next to me. All my inner alarm bells went off. "Oh, dear God, I didn't go home," I thought, though I couldn't remember anything past dancing with Tom. I hoped I hadn't spent the night with him. Regardless of the light, I opened one eye, shading it with a corner of the pillow. There, in the bed next to me, was the familiar face of Paul. He was watching me as I slept and smiled when he saw I was awake. "Had some fun last night, huh?" he asked.

"How did I get home?" I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut. 

Paul chuckled as he threw his arm over my waist and pulled me closer to him. "Hallie drove you home and then took a cab home, herself," he answered.

I threw my arms over my eyes. "Oh, God, my head," I complained. In between the bolts of pain, my thoughts were whirling. Paul had said Hallie drove me home, but Hallie hadn't been there with me last night. I had been with Tom. I made a mental note to call her and ask what had happened.

There must have been a queen look on my face because Paul backed away from me. "If you need to vomit, I'll help you to the bathroom," he grimaced. He was notorious for his aversion to vomit, having nearly puked himself any time we even saw something like it in a movie or on TV.

"Thanks," I replied. "I'll be fine." I rolled into my side, away from Paul, facing the window. "I could use some coffee, though."

"That I can do," he said as he climbed out of bed.

I waited until he had gotten downstairs and I heard noises from the kitchen to pick up my phone and call Hallie. My thoughts scrambled, trying to grasp at what exactly had happened the night before, hoping she could shed some light on the situation. Her line rang twice before she answered. "Hey," she said, her voice completely monotone.

"Hallie, it's Lora," I replied. "What happened to me last night?" I cut to the chase, hoping to get the truth before Paul made it back upstairs.

I could hear Hallie breathing, but otherwise the line was silent for a moment. Finally, she responded. "Fuck, Lora, you don't remember? You were drunk off your ass, all over Tom and dancing like a mad woman last night."

"Fuck," I groaned. "No, the last thing I remember was going to the club abs dancing, but you weren't there, were you?"

"No," she explained. "Tom looked up my number in your phone and called me. He didn't want your car left there and he was afraid of sending you home in a cab."

"I didn't... Did I?" The details were still hazy.

"Sleep with him?" she asked incredulously. "No, he called me before anything happened."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

There was more silence on the line for a moment, then Hallie returned to the conversation. "Listen, I know we're friends and all, but I can't sit by while you throw yourself at Tom. You're going to get yourself in trouble. Don't ask me for help, don't ask me to lie to Paul for you. I won't do it. If he asks me, I will tell him." Her response floored me.

"Hallie," I defended, "There's nothing going on between Tom and I. We're just friends, that's it. Hell, he will only be here a couple months."

"I know what I saw last night," she accused. "Don't ask me to do anything involving you and Tom." Her words lingered in the air as she hung up. I was confused. She and I had discussed all sorts of scenarios as we fangirled over Tom, but none of them had ever covered this one. We had always imagined having each other's backs and I was hurt now that she didn't have mine.

Paul pushed the door open, his hands both holding steaming mugs of coffee, just as I set the phone down. "Who was that?" he wondered.

"Hallie," I answered. "Did she say anything when she dropped me off last night?" I took the mug he handed to me and sipped on it.

Paul set his cup on his nightstand, sat down on the bed and picked it up again. "Only that you'd imbibed too much and would regret it in the morning," he answered. There was no indication that Hallie had told him any different.

"Thanks for the coffee," I nodded, holding the cup up. "This will help immensely." He smiled back at me and there we were, just a regular married couple on a Sunday morning, doing what I'd imagined regular couples do. 

"I'm sorry about the other night," Paul sighed, "My head just went into a bad place and, well, given our history..."

"You mean, given your history," I interrupted. "Damn," I thought, "That sounded bitter." I reached across the bed and patted his leg reassuringly. "I'm sorry, too," I tried to apologize before we started an all-out fight.

He shrugged. "I know you've never given me reason to doubt you," he said. "Just know that if I didn't love you, I wouldn't care."

"I know." I gave him my best loving smile and we went back to drinking our coffees in silence.

Paul let me have the shower first, partially, I think because he was still under the impression that, in my hungover state, there was still the possibility I might vomit. I'd like to think it was because he was trying to be a good husband and was catering to my needs inasmuch as I had the previous morning, but I doubted it. Most of his acts of love generally had a more self-serving purpose.

By the time I was dressed and he was out of the shower, it was nearly noon. "What should we do today?" he wondered aloud.

"I was thinking of heading to the Farmer's Market," I answered. "This is the first weekend they've been open."

Paul nodded, fully aware of my affinity for photographing the Market when all the vendors had blossoms out. It was a kaleidoscope of colors. "I think I'd like to tag along," he said softly, "So I can spend some time with just you." 

I couldn't say no, even though I really just wanted the day to myself to think things through. It was a role I had to play, though, the loving wife. "That's fine," I sighed. I was both terrified and hopeful that we would maybe, just maybe, run into Tom.

As we headed to the Market, the skies were filled with clouds, the sun muted but present. Once we got there, the clouds had accumulated, covering the sun completely, and I hoped that we wouldn't have to deal with the rain that was held heavy in their gray bellies. Fortunately, the stalls were all covered, so, even if it did rain, unless it was a windy mess, we would be able to stay dry. I grabbed an umbrella from the back seat of the car and made sure to wrap my parka around me, just in case.

Contrary to what I initially felt, having Paul tag along, we were enjoying ourselves. In between frames, he held my hand and guided me through the crowds. He even bought me a small bouquet of flowers, something he had never done in our years together. "What's this for?" I asked as he grinned at me.

"Can't I buy you flowers just because I love you?" he responded, his smile sagging as he saw my doubt creep in.

I wanted to smile back at him, but somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, there was that little niggling doubt that, even after all these years, tried to tell me that he was giving me these because he had done something wrong. "You never have before," I said wryly. "But, thank you. I love you, too." Judging by his response, that was what he was looking for from me. Just an acknowledgement, a brief bit of love, and he was fine. He was a puppy looking for the "good boy" and a pat on the head. Little did he know, I felt like I was faking it. Here I was, the faithful wife, supposed to love him in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, good times and in bad, 'til death do us part, and all I could think about was Tom and the kiss. I hadn't cheated, but I felt as guilty as if I had done the deed. I had Paul, but I wanted him to be Tom.

My mind wandered as much as my feet through the Farmer's Market. I day dreamed about what it would be like if Tom was there with me, would he have bought flowers as well? How much time would we spend talking as we browsed; we had so much more in common than I did with Paul anymore. These were all old fantasies, things I thought about as a fan girl, things that I talked about with Hallie and that we would giggle about over the phone when we commiserated in mutual infatuation. That, of course, was all before I knew him, before I knew how utterly soft his lips were, how gentle his touch, how sharp his wit, how dirty his humor. 

Paul had left me to use the restroom and I stood at a table that sold honey, taste-testing different varieties with an endless supply of tiny pretzel rods, lost halfway in a daydream, when I imagined Tom saying, "That honey is sweet, but not as sweet as you," when I realized I hadn't imagined his voice at all. I spun around and came face to face with him. "Tom!" I squeaked as he laughed at my surprise.

"Fancy meeting you here, Darling," he said with a smile. "Are you alone?" He raised his eyebrows at me and waited for an answer.

I pursed my lips. "Paul is in the restroom," I nodded. "He should be back any minute."

Tom stepped away from the table and motioned for me to follow him. When we were sufficiently out of the walkway and away from the crowd, he took a deep breath and asked, "Are you alright after last night?" 

I wasn't sure if he was asking about the kiss or the fact that he'd had to call Hallie to drive my ass home. "Yeah," I replied, "Except Hallie is pissed at me." I crossed my arms and leaned against a metal pole that was holding up part of the awning. "She thinks more went on than what I remember." I cocked an eyebrow at him. "The last thing I remember is dancing with you, Tom. What else happened?"

He chuckled, "That's all, actually." With amusement, he continued, "You drank a bit too much at the club and passed out in one of the booths. I found your phone in your bag, called Hallie and she agreed to come get you." He reached out with one finger and tipped my chin up towards his face so he could look me n the eyes. "I swear, that's all. I'm not the kind of guy that would take advantage of woman when she's stone drunk."

"I believe you," I sighed, lost in his blue eyes for the moment. I heard Paul's voice call for me and it knocked me back into the present. "I'm not sure Hallie does, though," I finished, just before Paul found us. I plastered a smile on my face and wrapped my arm around his waist. "Look who I ran into, Honey," I declared, presenting Tom with a roll of my hand. "This is Tom Hiddleston," I introduced. "Tom, I'd like you to meet my husband, Paul."

Paul took a moment, looking at Tom as though he were assessing his threat-level. Finally, he stretched his hand out to accept Tom's handshake. "Nice to meet you," he said. "My wife loves you."

Tom shot a look of amusement at me and replied, "Oh, does she, now?"

I blushed and tried to change the subject. "So, Tom, what are you doing here in our fair city?"

"I am going to be here for the next couple months filming a movie," he answered. It was completely textbook, but, Tom, being the consummate actor, was able to pull off such stock answers with absolute believability that Paul didn't think to ask me why I'd suddenly gone so shy. "It is a beautiful city."

Nodding, Paul agreed. He began to ask Tom all sorts of questions, ranging from what he thought of the weather to his favorite sports teams. I rolled my eyes when he started getting into stats and I saw Tom shoot a look at me that said, "And you are married to this guy?" 

When Paul finally let up, it was to invite Tom to dinner. "While you're in town, I'd love to have you for dinner," he'd said. 

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," Tom replied. I thought I saw him wink at me, but it was so quick that Paul probably thought it was just a twitch.

Paul wouldn't take "no" for an answer. "Nonsense," he said, "I'm sure you don't get a lot of home-cooked meals in your profession and my wife," he punctuated the point with a pat on my back, "is one hell of a cook. She makes the meanest lasagna this side of the Mississippi."

Tom relented, "Yes, you're right. Most of the time I've got take-out and room service," he smiled at me, "And, if you're going to make a claim like that, you better be able to back it up."

Ecstatic, Paul perked up and excitedly said, "Great! How about tonight?"

I felt like I was being put on the spot and I let out a sigh. Paul ignored it, but Tom read into it. Without missing a beat, he said, "I've actually got plans tonight, but I'm open tomorrow, if you're free?"

They both looked at me for a reply. "Tomorrow's great!" I consented. "That will give me more time to prepare, anyway." They seemed relieved that I had agreed to it, Paul because he'd been asking for me to make my lasagna for ages and Tom because he was no longer on the hot spot. "Paul," I said after a moment, "You know what would go wonderfully in the lasagna? Some of that homemade mozzarella they sell here. You know, the kind you like?" Paul nodded and I continued. "It's getting a bit late and the Market will be closing soon. Would you go get some for me while I give Mr. Hiddleston our address?"

Paul agreed, asking only, "How much?"

"About two pounds," I answered.

I waited until Paul was in the crowd and out of earshot before saying anything else. Once it was safe, I looked sheepishly up at Tom. "So, that's Paul," I said, shuffling my foot against a patch of grass. 

"He seems like a nice guy," Tom replied. "It was nice of you to invite me to dinner." He gave me a genuine smile. "So, this means I get your address?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'll come pick you up. I need to get some stuff at the grocery store and I need help picking out wine. Paul will be at work and he says I pick out shit for wine."

Tom chuckled, "Well, I do know of some good ones." He noticed my nervous distress. "Are we okay?" he asked. "I mean, after last night, are we okay?"

My eyes fell from his, not because we weren't okay, but because I knew if I looked up at him any longer, I wouldn't be able to resist kissing him again. "Yes, we're fine," I mumbled. Glancing back up, I added, "I'm thinking I can come get you around 2, if that's ok?"

"Two is great," he smiled as he was distracted by something over my shoulder. 

Paul appeared at my side, once again oblivious to the atmosphere that surrounded Tom and I. "Got the cheese," he announced. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," I answered as I looped my arm around Paul's elbow. I turned back towards Tom as we walked away and mouthed, "Two." He nodded as we disappeared into what remained of the afternoon crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

The clock was slow, the wait agony as I worked. My new job was exciting, I worked with kids at Children's Hospital, but the longer I was there, the more my stomach tied into anticipatory knots. When I was finally allowed to leave, I hoped that the knots would release, but they got worse and I wasn't sure if they were from anxiety over Paul's touting of my superior lasagna skills or the fact that I would be spending an evening in the presence of both my husband and the man I lusted after.

I ran to punch out and flew down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. As I approached my car, I texted Tom, "On my way." 

Tom was waiting outside the hotel when I arrived, a smile full of expectation on his face. "You're wearing scrubs," he observed as he climbed in the passenger seat. "I know we've talked about a lot, but I don't think I've ever asked you what you do for a living." 

"I'm a medical assistant," I answered as I pulled the car into traffic. "I work at Children's Hospital. " I stole a quick glance at him and he looked impressed. 

"That's wonderful," he exclaimed. "I love children, they're so genuine, so honest."

Nodding my head, I agreed. "You can't get anything past them, either," I laughed. 

Our mirth died down as we drove toward the grocery store and, to fill in the silence, I turned the radio up. "Oh, I love this song," Tom chimed over the music. He proceeded to serenade me with Frank Sinatra's "My Way," which, I'm sure he was just enjoying himself, but threw my entire being into a tizzy. I tried my best to hold my composure, hoping he wouldn't pay attention to the way my knuckles turning whiter and whiter as I gripped the steering wheel for control of myself. He had no idea of what he did to me, what his effect on me was and I wasn't about to let him know.

When we finally got to the grocery store and had parked the car, I jumped out ahead of him and snagged a shopping cart that was straggling near the door. "I'll race you," I smiled devilishly as I ran towards the door. His footfalls behind me pounded on the pavement and I could hear them getting closer as he began to out-pace me. Within seconds, he had overtaken me and was standing in front of the automatic door. "It's those long legs," I wheezed, trying to catch my breath.

"You're not so slow," he grinned as he grabbed the end of the cart closest to him. "I'll take the trolley, if you'll let me." He came slowly around to the handle and nodded to let him take it from me. When I didn't relinquish it right away, he went behind me, reaching around, his hands on either side, sliding against mine. "Or, we could share," he leaned down and whispered, his voice gruff.

My heart leaped into my throat and I was mute. I shook my head and let go, ducking under his arm and moving to the side of the cart. "I guess it's better this way," I sighed. "It's not like you know where you're going in here." Walking towards the main aisle of the store, I looked over my shoulder at him and motioned for him to follow me. I just couldn't look him in the eye, not then. If I had, he would have known exactly what thoughts lingered in my head.

I guided him first to the produce. "Do you like mushrooms?" I asked, my hands ready to grab a pack. He nodded and I tossed some in the basket. Spinach, onion, tomatoes and garlic were next. I picked up a zucchini and contemplated adding that in as well, but I put it back hastily when I looked at Tom while I held it and noticed the smirk on his face. As I glanced at the squash in my hands, I realized I was holding it rather suggestively. "Very funny," I groused. 

Tom held his hands up in front of his chest. "I said absolutely nothing," he replied, trying to hold in a laugh.

"Your face said it all for you," I shot back. With a decided harrumph, I led him into the dairy department. As we passed through, I picked out some cartons of fresh mozzarella, Romano and ricotta cheeses. Luckily, there wasn't much he could say to that. The rest of the trip through the store was uneventful as we picked up some Italian sausage, some lasagna noodles and some loaves of freshly baked baguettes from the bakery. 

As I went to the check out, Tom said, "I thought you needed my help with wine."

"I did," I groaned as we got out of line. "Thanks for the reminder." Once in the wine department, I asked, "What would you drink with lasagna, anyway?" I'd always been a red wine girl myself, but I thought maybe Tom would suggest otherwise. 

He studied the shelves, his eyebrows furrowed. "A Cabernet would be nice," he said, linking his lips. I moved closer to him to see which wines he was looking at, but he didn't realize I was there until he pulled a bottle from the top shelf to show me and ended up elbowing me in the head. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize you were there!" He set the bottle down and leaned over, closer to my face, thoroughly concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Just fine," I answered. I tried to back away, overwhelmed by his proximity, but ran into the cart. He caught me before both the cart and I ran into the wall of glass wine bottles. "Thanks," I managed.

After we left the store and loaded the groceries into the trunk of my car, I drove home. It was an uneventful ride, save for Tom's observations as he watched out the window. "You live in such a beautiful city," he gushed as we drove down streets lined with trees. He was equally appreciative of my house as we pulled into the driveway. I lived in a craftsman style home, painted white with natural wood trim. We had a big Bay window in front and I had insisted on a front door with a small panel of leaded glass. "Your home is wonderful," he complemented as he helped me get the groceries from the car.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I worked to get the door unlocked. Swinging it open, I shoved the keys into my pocket and picked up the bags of groceries I had set down on the porch. 

I didn't want to feel like I was giving Tom the cold shoulder as he helped me, but, once we got everything set down on the kitchen counter, he cornered me. He stopped me from running around frantically and grasped my shoulders. "Is everything alright?" he asked again. "You haven't really said much to me since we left the store."

Taking a deep breath, I answered, "There's just so much to do and not much time." I noticed the way he was staring at me, like he knew exactly what was up, but was only waiting for me to admit it. "You're not buying that, are you?"

With a shake of his head, he said, "Something seems to be bothering you, isn't it?" He was waiting for a response and all I could give him was dear in the headlights. "Am I what's bothering you?"

I broke down and told him about Hallie, what she thought about he and I and how ridiculous it was. "The worst things about it," I complained, "is that she's the one I should be able to trust with this."

"This?" he looked at me quizzically. 

I nodded. "Whatever this is..." I paused and sucked in my breath, waiting for his response.

He shrugged. "I thought you wanted this to be just a friendship," he said quietly. "That is what it is, isn't it?"

Letting the breath out slowly, I let out a little groan. "After the other night, I'm not sure what it is," I replied. "God..." I shrugged off his hands and turned around so I was no longer facing him. "When I woke up, I was so afraid I'd spent the night with you." I laid my head down on the counter and smacked it against the granite a couple times. "I can't do this."

"Lora," he pressed his hand on my back, "I'm not that type of guy. You were drunk and..." he stammered, "and married."

"And that's what I have to keep telling myself," I mumbled against the counter top. 

Tom took his hand off my back and was silent for a moment and I was afraid I'd said too much. He was the last person I wanted to foist this on, and the last person I wanted to lose because of it. "I don't rightly know what to say," he whispered. I could tell he was as confused about the whole situation as I was. Slightly louder, he asked, "You need this to stay completely platonic, don't you?"

I stood up and turned back around. "Paul and I," I began, pausing for a moment to pick out the words I wanted to say, "have a difficult relationship right now." The story of Paul's indiscretion came pouring from my mouth before I could even stop it and with each revelation, Tom's mouth dropped a little further open. I finished with, "I know what that did to me, I can't do that to him." 

"How could anyone do that to you in the first place?" he asked. "Paul is a lucky man to have you."

"Thanks," I said, pursing my lips. I glanced at the clock. "Shit, I better get this lasagna on the road if we're gonna eat in time."

Tom smiled, but it was a sad smile. "When does Paul expect dinner?" He spat out Paul's name in disgust.

I tried to ignore it. "Seven," I answered as I turned back around and unloaded the groceries from the bags. "Could you please pull a pot out of the cupboard? First one on the right."

The sounds of clanking metal filled the kitchen as he rifled around for a pot. "How big do you need, anyway?" He brought a medium-sized sauce pan and held it in front of me. "Will this work?"

I took it from him and set it on the stove. "That will be perfect!" Our interactions were beginning to feel normal again, not stilted, not like we were about to be pushed over a cliff at any moment. He watched, leaning against the sink, as I chopped up the tomatoes, onion, garlic and mushrooms and dumped them into the pan before turning it on. I opened up the cupboard next to him and pulled out some bottles of dried basil, oregano, parsley, salt and pepper, setting them on the counter, waiting to be added to the sauce. 

All my spoons were in the drainer next to the sink and I flashed my eyes up at him for a moment before reaching past him to grab one. Everything was normal one moment, and then the thickness filled the space between us the next. He let out a soft lamentation as I brushed against him that rumbled in his chest and, as I cast my eyes back up at him, I saw his tongue dart out hastily and whet his lip. "You could have asked me for that," he said, his voice huskier than before.

"I know, but I'm so used to cooking alone," I excused as I plopped the spoon into the pan and began stirring. My chest felt tight and I breathed in, hoping it would help dissipate the feelings I was bottling up.

"Anything else I can help you with?" He leaned his elbow down on the counter next to me and looked up at me, amused.

I shook my head. "Not yet, but when the time comes, I'll let you be my taste-tester," I returned. As the pot began to boil, I shook in some of each of the seasonings and mixed them in, then grabbed a lid and covered it. As I turned down the heat on the stove, I commented, "Now we just let this sit and simmer." Inside, I wasn't sure if I was speaking about the pot of sauce, or Tom and I. I turned on the timer for 40 minutes. "Would you like to sit down, maybe watch some TV?" I invited. "It will be a while before we can do anything else."

Tom nodded. "Sure, watching the telly sounds great."

As we passed the grocery bags, I realized I hadn't yet put the cheese away and that the wine needed to chill. "Wait," I stopped. "Can you give me a hand getting these in the fridge?" Tom held out his hands and I loaded them up with the cheese before pulling out the wine bottle and heading to open the refrigerator. 

I set the bottle on the top shelf on its side, then turned around to take the cheeses from him. "I'm feeling rather cheesy," he grinned as I took the first container.

"Har, har, you're so punny," I shot back. After they were put away, I shut the door and turned around. "Living room is over there," I pointed to a doorway on the left. 

He was watching me again, no longer smiling, concentrating, his blue eyes taking everything in, studying me, and it showed as he caught me in them. "May I use the loo?" he asked. His question was so unexpected that it caused me to glance down and witness the rise of him pressed against the denim of his jeans.

I tried not to stare, flicking my eyes back up to him with a breathless, "Sure, upstairs on your right, first door. Can't miss it."

"Okay." He walked away, leaving me catching my breath, leaned against the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator.

By the time Tom returned, I had gotten comfortable on my sofa and turned on a movie. "Hey, have a seat," I patted the cushion next to me.

Tom looked more relaxed as he sat down next to me. "What did you find to watch?"

"An old favorite," I smiled, "Guys and Dolls."

"Ooohhh, a favorite of mine, too," he gushed. "I always wanted to play in this one." He leaned forward on his knees, studying the television intently. 

At some point in time, Tom leaned back and stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. I stayed curled up in the corner, leaned on the arm, my feet pointed towards him. The timer on the sauce buzzed and, as I moved to get up, I realized my legs were asleep. I stretched them out, hovering over Tom's lap, yelping, "Oh, pins and needles, pins and needles." He pulled them down on top of his legs and began rubbing them for me, but, rather than help, it hurt. "No, no, please, ouch, stop," I pleaded.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I thought that might help."

"Only if I were a masochist," I grunted, trying to stifle the stream of obscenities that wanted to spew forth. I tried to put my legs down to allow blood to flow back into them and ended up toppling into him. "Crap, that hurts," I whined.

He stayed still, not sure what he needed to do. "Would you like me to stir the sauce?" he finally asked.

"Please," I gasped. "Just until I can walk."

Carefully, he moved from beside me and went into the kitchen. I could hear him lift the lid and set it on the counter and then pick the spoon up from the spoon rest and stir. I stretched my legs out and the tingles had dissipated. When I joined him, he was stirring vigorously. "You don't have to stir that hard," I laughed.

"Can I taste it yet?" he asked with the enthusiasm of a seven year old.

I laughed, "Yes, you can. Just let me know what you think. I might need to add something."

Tom lifted up the spoon and blew on it before sticking his tongue out and licking the sauce off of it. "Mmmmmm, perfect!" he pronounced. "Would you like to try?"

"Well, it is customary for the cook to taste their own food," I huffed in mock offense. "Also, never trust a skinny Italian cook."

He raised his eyebrow at me and laughed as he dipped the spoon back in the pot. "Are you Italian?"

I shook my head as he raised the spoon back out, blew on it and extended it towards me. I jutted my chin out and opened my mouth as he carefully let the sauce run over my tongue. Some of it dribbled out and began to run down my chin. Before I could reach up to wipe it away, his hand was there, his fingers carefully swiping it back towards my mouth as he pulled the spoon away. Without thinking, I licked the sauce off his fingers and I heard him suck in his breath. He dropped his hand and the spoon in his other fell to the floor. "Sorry," I whispered. "I wasn't even thinking..." Backing away from him, I glanced up at him, noting the confusion in his eyes. "I should boil the noodles while the sauce cools," I squeaked as I turned away. 

"I'll be in the living room," he replied, walking into the other room.

The rest of the meal, I cooked alone, letting Tom watch whatever he wanted on television. When I finally got the lasagna assembled, covered in foil and in the oven, I joined him, flopping down on the couch next to him. "And now, we wait," I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he hadn't looked at me, his eyes fixed firmly on the television. "Are you alright?" I asked, setting my hand down on his knee.

He took a deep breath, his cheeks hollowing and making his cheekbones more prominent. "The thing is," he began as he exhaled, "is that you are telling me you want to be platonic, but everything you are doing is quite the opposite." He turned his gaze towards me. "You are really a conundrum."

Covering my face with my hands, I could feel my skin getting hot. "I know, I know," I said, muffled, "I'm sorry." I put my hands back down, the one closes to him once again smacking his knee. I watched him, scrutinized him, tried to decipher what he was thinking. "I find you wonderful," I admitted. "You're fun, you're amazingly intelligent and I love talking with you..."

A tender expression spread across his face and he put his hand over the top of mine. "You do?" His voice was so velvety, his inflection so genuine. I nodded and he grasped my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. "You are perfect," he whispered as he kissed the back of it, "So talented, so gorgeous..." His lips crept up my arm as he pulled me closer.

I let out a slight moan. "I am wildly attracted to you," I sighed. I wasn't sure how far it was going to go, but I was powerless to stop it. My eyes wouldn't leave his, even as my breath quickened.

As he reached my lips, alighting on them gently, we heard the slam of a car door in the driveway. Both of us scrambled to regain our composure, Tom sprawling out on the sofa as I sprinted into the kitchen and began pulling the vegetables for a salad from the fridge. I could hear the front door open and Paul greet Tom with, "Hey, Tom, I hope my wife is being a good hostess."

"Good afternoon, Paul," Tom answered. "She's been great. And the lasagna smells heavenly."

I smiled as I chopped lettuce. Paul came into the kitchen and kissed me on the cheek. "Hey, Babe," he said, "I'm starved. When's dinner gonna be done?"

"In a half hour," I answered as I tossed the lettuce into the salad bowl. "I've got to warm the bread and let the lasagna finish cooking and then we'll be ready." 

"Well," he replied, "I'll be in the living room entertaining our guest. Bring us some beers, would you?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "You'll have to wait for me to finish the salad."

"It takes, what, two seconds?" he huffed. "The salad has time. I just got home from work, which, by the way was incredibly difficult today. Is it too much to expect a beer from my loving wife?" He scowled at me and stomped into the living room. "Sorry," I heard him say to Tom, "My wife is a bit too busy to bring beers just yet."

I was angry enough to pull one out of the refrigerator and throw it at his head, but I didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

"How's Tom," Hallie asked. She wasn't exactly great with tact. We had agreed to meet up for coffee and shopping, evading downtown because she didn't feel like running into anyone, especially Tom. 

I sighed. "I hear he's great." in truth, I had only exchanged a few texts and a couple phone calls with him since our dinner. 

While we were eating, everything was fine. Both Tom and Paul praised my lasagna, the salad and baguette perfectly complemented it. Paul even appreciated the wine Tom had picked out, except I didn't tell him Tom had had a hand in that part of our meal. Everything started to go downhill when Paul finished off most of the wine, after having had two pre-meal beers, and then proceeded to offer Tom some scotch, which he politely declined, sensing my discomfort with it. Paul invited Tom back into the living room, leaving me to clean up after dinner. Tom offered to help me take care of everything. "She's a woman, that's her job," Paul excused.

"I'm sorry," Tom replied to him. "I don't agree with you. I've helped with the mess, I'll help take care of it. I'm not a misogynist." 

He moved towards the kitchen with his plate in hand when Paul grabbed his arm. "Did you just call me a misogynist? " Paul yelled.

Calmly, Tom shook his head. "I only said I wasn't one." 

I knew how Paul got when he'd been drinking and I wanted to diffuse the situation before anything happened. "It's alright, Tom, you're a guest, you don't need to worry about it," I demurred. 

"Lora, I want to," he smiled.

There must have been something between us that set Paul off. He let go of Tom's sleeve and threw a punch, missing Tom but not the wall, his fist sinking into it with a sickening thud. "Are you sleeping with my wife?" Paul screamed.

Moving between them, I defended, "No, he's not." I pulled Paul's fist from the drywall. "You're drunk, you're belligerent, you should go cool off."

Paul pushed against me, his eyes full of fire and hate. "It's my house," he growled. He shoved me again, harder and I fell back against Tom as I watched Paul stomp away, escaping up the stairs to his man cave.

"I'm sorry about that," I sighed. "He gets a little angry when he drinks." 

Tom's eyes were sympathetic. "Lora, he's never hit you, has he?" There was pain in his voice that I'd never heard there before.

"No," I answered, "he usually shuts himself off before anything like that happens." I motioned towards the upstairs area. I took a deep breath. "You should probably go."

Tom nodded. "I want to make sure you're safe."

"I'll be fine." I hadn't realized I'd never left the safety of his arms until that moment. "I should probably call you a cab, though."

He pulled me into an embrace. "Just, stay safe," he mumbled into my ear. "If anything were to happen to you, I would blame myself for leaving you."

I let out an insecure chuckle. "I'm a big girl. I've been dealing with these tantrums for five years."

He released me and leaned down, gazing at me face to face. "That doesn't make it right."

I'd told Hallie the whole story the next morning. She'd been more sympathetic than I thought she would be, but she was proud that I decided to send Tom away. Of course, I left out everything that pertained to Tom's and my afternoon together. "Paul really shouldn't have tried to hit Tom, but Tom should have respected him more," she said. 

The next day Tom had been scheduled to begin filming and I hadn't seen him since. I threw myself into work and into trying to patch things with Paul. But I missed Tom. Our phone calls and texts weren't quite enough for me. They consisted of nothing more than how our day went, trivia and poetry, but I relished them. 

As Hallie and I drank our coffee, talking and laughing, I spotted a familiar form in the crowd across the street. Tom was there, but he didn't notice me. "Excuse me," I told Hallie as I stood up. "I'll be right back."

She was about to protest when she followed my gaze. Once she saw Tom, she simply replied with, "Oh."

I opened the door to the coffee shop and stepped outside. As I did, Tom looked up and his eyes widened in recognition. I smiled and looked to cross the road when a willowy blond emerged from the building behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He looked away as she said something to him, but he didn't look back at me. Instead, he put his arms around her shoulders and walked down the street with her.

My heart fell. I was devastated as I returned to Hallie and my coffee. She saw the entire thing. "Well, he is an actor," she shrugged. "And it's not like he was yours. Hell, Lora, you've got Paul and you're married to him."

"I know," I moaned. I didn't care if she saw the tears in my eyes. I didn't care if I had Paul. All I cared about was the lump in my throat and the pit in my stomach that was cold and hard and painful.

The rest of my afternoon was spent in a haze. I tried to throw myself into shopping, but I couldn't find anything I wanted. To Hallie's chagrin, I barely had an opinion on what she bought and, by the time we were halfway through the shopping mall, we called it quits. "You're too hung up," she scolded as I left. "He's not going to ever be your man."

As I got in my car, I vacillated on whether to contact Tom. I sat there, contemplating and had composed five different texts to him and deleted each and every one of them. As I began trying a sixth, my phone rang. It was Tom. "Hey, you," I answered,trying to sound cheerful and not at all like I'd been crying.

"Lora, I'm sorry," he started off with. "I wanted to see you, but Elise needed to show me something. By the time we returned, you were gone."

"Oh," was all I could manage. "Elise." Her name sat bitterly on my tongue.

Tom was silent for a moment. "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong," he said quietly.

"Is she your girlfriend?" I asked. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"No," he answered. "She's actually one of my costars, if you must know." 

"Are you as cozy with all of your costars? " I tried to sound more curious than I did and it came out as vitriolic. 

He chuckled. "You're jealous," he laughed.

"I am not." I didn't feel like defending myself. "You think you've hit the nail on the head, don't you? That you've got me all figured out?"

"Well..." He had nothing more to say for a moment, then changed the subject. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in my car in the mall parking garage," I huffed. "Why?"

"Because I'm right next to you," he laughed.

I heard a tap on my window that startled me, making him laugh even harder. I looked up at him, made a face and v turned my phone off. As I opened my door and stepped out of the car, I scolded, "You're just lucky I don't carry pepper spray."

I expected him to have another quick come back, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled me close to him, shut my door and backed me up, pressing against me as he kissed me hard. My lips felt bruised from the impact, but I didn't care. I threw my arms around his neck and wove my fingers in his hair. Everything about it felt right, even though it was wrong.

Once we stopped and took a breath, I gasped, "Oh god, my husband... " The guilt set in.

"Your husband is an ass," he growled. "He doesn't deserve you."

"But he doesn't deserve this," I whined. 

Tom sighed. "No, but you do."

"Still, I shouldn't," I answered as I pushed him away.

He tried to pin me again. "If you weren't married, would this be a problem."

I stared at him incredulously. "No, but I have that commitment," I argued.

"Well," he groaned, "I guess you've made your decision, then?"

I opened the car door and nodded. "I'll call you later," I said tearfully. He only nodded, walking in the opposite direction as I drove away.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry I kissed you," he said as we spoke on the phone a few days later. "You keep setting boundaries and I keep crashing through them."

I took a deep breath. "Honestly, Tom, you're not the only one," I replied, "the only difference is that I stumble over them."

He responded with a breathy, "Ehehehehe," before adding, "You know, Lora, you definitely know how to keep things interesting."

We had been in communication since the night of our last meeting in the parking garage. I had texted him and he texted back, neither of us ready to actually speak until now. I didn't want to let go of our relationship, and, as we talked, I realized, neither did Tom. 

"So, what are we going to do about this?" I asked.

Tom stayed silent for a moment and I could tell he was chewing his lip as he thought. "You're a wonderful woman," he finally said. "I want you in my life, even if it means we're only friends. "

I let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you think that, too," I gushed. "You are unlike anyone I've ever known and my life is better for having you in it."

"Well," he interjected, "now that we've got that out of the way, I've got a proposal for you."

Bracing myself, I replied, "Yes?"

"The production company wants someone to take some stills during filming to show the back end of things," he explained. "I told them I knew an excellent photographer."

"So, you want me to do it?" I asked, flattered.

"They said they'd give it a go," he replied, sounding proud of himself. "Are you free to come by the set tomorrow?"

I checked my work schedule and did a silent dance of joy. "As a matter of fact," I said, trying to mask my excitement, "It turns out tomorrow is my day off."

Tom gave me the time, name and address of the person I was to meet with before hanging up with a, "Good luck, Darling."

Leaning against the wall in my bedroom, I melted. He had never called me "Darling" before and it made my heart beat faster, even as I thought of it.

"Who was that on the phone?" I heard Paul ask as he trudged up the stairs. "And why isn't dinner done yet?"

I stood up, still clutching my phone to my chest. "It was a job offer," I answered as he entered the room. "Photography, for tomorrow." He stood in the doorway and scowled at me. "And I thought we could go out tonight for dinner," I finished.

Paul shook his head. "Didn't you remember the game that's on? I invited some of the guys from work over and they're going to be expecting some food when they get here." He spoke to me with the tone of a strict parent nagging a child and he smelled like he'd been drinking. 

"Thanks for coming home drunk," I said under my breath. "Order yourself some pizza, then," I spat. "I'm not your personal catering service." I pushed past him and stomped downstairs, escaping to the laundry room, the only place in the house where I thought I would be let alone. As I leaned against the door, I could feel my pulse race, not sure why he'd already been drinking or even what had set him off. He was worse than he'd ever been before.

A door slammed upstairs and I could hear things bang around, crashing against the wall. Paul yelled something in anger that I couldn't make out. I wished there was a lock on the door. I could still hear the noise upstairs and decided to creep out of my hiding spot. Sneaking past the stair landing, I grabbed my purse and made for the front door. 

As I put my hand on the handle, Paul came at me, flying down the stairs. "You bitch!" he growled. He held his hand up like he wanted to strike me and I cowered. "I ought to slap some sense into you!"

"Paul," I whimpered. "You're drunk. Leave me alone." I wiggled the door handle and began to open it. As I steeled myself and stepped outside, Paul caught the collar of my shirt abs pulled me back in.

"You're not going anywhere," he seethed. As I turned my head to face him, his free hand smacked sickeningly against it. "I own you, he can't have you."

I held my cheek where the skin stung, letting his words sink in and realizing he was talking about Tom. "Fuck you," I cried. "Marriage is not a contract of ownership." His eyes were fierce and he was someone I didn't recognize as his hand struck me again, this time, even harder. 

As I screamed in pain, some semblance of recognition flashed in his eyes. I flinched as he pulled me into his arms and began to sob. "Oh, God, Lora, I'm sorry," he wailed. "I don't want to lose you."

Squirming to get out of his embrace, I couldn't stand being touched by him. "Paul, let me go," I huffed. "Just let me go." When he finally relinquished control, I ran upstairs.

He followed me, full of apologies as he watched me pack a bag and grab my camera gear. "Don't leave me," he pleaded, trying to grab me as I shirked away from him.

"I love you, Paul," I said as I stood in the doorway. "But you need help and until you get that help, I can't stay here." He trailed after me as I went back downstairs, but, this time, he didn't try to stop me as I left.

As I sat in my car in the driveway, I began to weep. Paul had never struck me before, he'd never tried to hurt me at all, but, now he had and I was afraid.

The only place I could think to go was Hallie's, so I called her as I pulled out of the driveway. "He hit me," I gasped as I explained the situation.

"You're welcome to stay with me as long as you need," she replied, much to my relief. "Have you called the police?"

"No," I answered. "I can't do that, he'll lose his job, we'll lose the house..." 

"You're planning on going back to him?" she asked incredulously. 

"I don't know," I blubbered. "Maybe after he's gotten help for his drinking... "

Exasperated, she groaned, "Just get over here. I'll talk some sense into you when you get here.


	7. Chapter 7

I knew I looked bad by the way Hallie clamped her hands over her mouth and the look of shock that passed through her eyes, yet she said nothing when I got to her apartment. She only ushered me to the sofa, already made up for me sleep on, and let me cry on her shoulder. I spilled everything, about Paul, about Tom, about me and she stayed silent until I was done.

Three boxes of tissue later, I was worn and sore, finally open to whatever she was going to say. "I'm not passing judgment," she sighed, "but you can't let Paul get away with this. Call the police, press charges." I opened my mouth to protest, but she was quicker than I. "I know you're worried about losing your house, but don't be. You know you never liked that place."

"I've grown to love it," I whispered. 

She shook her head. "No, you've grown to accept it. The same way you did Paul after what he did to you." She took my hands on hers. "If you do nothing, he'll think it's okay to do again."

I knew she was right. Hallie almost always was the voice of reason and I was thankful. She let me get settled, made me a bowl of soup and called the police for me. She even went so far to contact a lawyer friend for me.

The next morning, I was exhausted from the night's events and I almost called the production office to reschedule, but I didn't because I wanted to see Tom. 

I'd texted him to let him know when I had arrived to the set, but I'd said nothing about what had happened. I was setting up my equipment, when two long arms wrapped around me. "Mmmmm, I've missed you," he whispered as he nuzzled my neck.

"Me, too," I sighed. I let go of my tripod and turned around.

His face said it all. The concern from his altercation with Paul on lasagna night flooded back into his eyes and he brought his fingers up to gingerly touch the bruise on my cheek. "Did Paul do this?" he rasped. 

"Last night." I turned my eyes down, unable to cope with his tenderness. "I left and I'm staying with Hallie," I said, as if that would make it better.

I had never seen Tom angry, save for in his films. His face contorted into fury. "That fucking asshole," he growled. "I'll kill him."

Holding my hands on his chest, I tried to calm him down. "Don't," I pleaded. "He's in jail, I pressed charges." 

"Good," he glowered. His hands had knotted into fists at my sides and, as he let the anger dissipate, they relaxed. He noted the fright in my face. "Lora, I'm so sorry." I wanted him to pull me into his arms and kiss me passionately like he had in the parking garage. I wanted him to tell me everything was going to be alright, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to mine before announcing that he needed to get to the set.

I knew we were both there to work, but I was disappointed that he didn't comfort me more. To make matters worse, that was the day they were filming a love scene, so I had to photograph frame after frame of Tom and Elise canoodling, kissing, holding hands, making eyes at each other. I tried to focus on the details of what happened behind the scenes, but, in my heart, I felt like crying.

It wasn't like Tom was mine. Hell, we'd been skirting the issue, wavering between friendship and lust, but, after everything that happened with Paul, it hurt just a bit too much.

As the crew broke for lunch, I put my equipment away. The director asked to see what I'd gotten and was thrilled with the photos I showed her. I was hoping to have Tom to myself for lunch, but, by the time I was done, he had disappeared. With a heavy heart, I resigned myself to eating alone and walked solemnly to a cafe that was just across the street. 

After lunch, as I headed back, there he was, leaning against the side of a building, smiling and chatting with Elise. As he saw me, he waved me over. With a shrug, I went. "Darling, I'd like you to meet my costar, Elise Simpson," he introduced. 

She gave me a catty grin. "Hello, and you are?" she shot a sidelong glance at Tom.

"I'm Lora," I answered. Tom wasn't looking at either of us, so I threaded my arm around his elbow. 

"Tommy hasn't mentioned you until today," she said, the tone of her voice sounding like she was already staking a claim on him.

I could see the look of disgust on his face as she called him Tommy, but it was there only for a moment before he shook his head. "I told you about Lora the other day. She's the photographer."

"Oh, that's right." She gave me a quick once-over, obviously in distaste. I couldn't help but wonder what she thought about my bruised cheek. "Well, it's been nice to meet you, but we're due back now." She tried to grab Tom's arm to pull him away. "Let's go, don't want to keep everyone waiting."

Tom yanked his arm back. "I'll be a bit," he replied. "Let Karen know that Lora and I are on our way."

Elise rolled her eyes and walked away, the click of her heels on the grounds echoing in proportion to her annoyance. 

"She's really very nice," Tom said, defending her. 

"I'm sure she is," I grumbled. "When she doesn't feel like another woman is honing in on her territory." 

"Well," he said softly, "I'm definitely not hers." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Now, let's get back to work."


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the day seemed to fly by. During the scenes that Tom wasn't in, he came to stand by me, taking great interest in what I was photographing, complementing the images I captured and rewarding each one with a hug or a soft kiss against my temple. I could tell he was trying to make me feel better, to somehow make everything for me okay, and it helped, for the most part.

I couldn't help but notice the reaction from Elise each time he did it. At first, she tried to play like she was ignoring it, but each time his attention turned to me, I could see her eyes flash with the green monster of jealousy. When it became too much for her to bear, she confronted me. "I happened to see you have a wedding ring," she said casually. "I hope that your commitment to your husband is solid because I intend on making Tommy mine." 

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. I stood there slack jawed, trying to figure out how to respond, but I didn't need to. Tom had overheard. "That is incredibly rude," he commented as he emerged from the door behind us. There was no waiting for a reaction as he continued. "First of all, what my relationship is to Lora is none of your damn business. Second, my name is Tom. Third, you're a beautiful woman, but you are not my cuppa tea."

Elise looked at him with complete disbelief, then turned her gaze to me. I had never seen such vitriol. "I suppose she's your type," she spat, pointing her nose at me. "I thought we had something special. What about the other night?" Tom shook his head with a scowl and Elise threw a pout at him before walking away in a huff. 

He sighed. "About what she was saying," he explained, "the other night..."

"I don't need to know," I protested before he could say something I didn't want to hear.

He reached down and grasped my hand. "But I need to tell you, nothing happened. We had some drinks and she kissed me."

"You didn't have to tell me that," I said, pulling my hand away. "You're not mine and she did have a point." I found myself nervously twisting my wedding ring on my finger. "I have a commitment," I sighed. "I said the vows, I promised. He's going to get help now."

Tom frowned. "As far as I'm concerned, Paul negated those vows the moment he laid a hand on you." He reached out to gently stroke the bruise on my face. His eyes flicked to mine, boring into my soul. "You don't have to stay."

The director called for Tom before he could do or say anything else. As he walked to the set, he glanced over his shoulder, the look in his eyes telling me he was defeated.

I went back to my own work, my photographs concentrating on the crew as they completed their own tasks. It was a relief from focusing on the cast, my camera no longer pointed at Tom and Elise. Even though he'd developed an obvious distaste for her, there was no denying they had an on screen chemistry and it bothered me more than it should have. He stopped coming to see me in between takes as well, which was far less distracting, but also made me feel more alone than before.

When I was finally done and began packing up my equipment, I was completely drained. I wanted nothing more than to go home and run a hot bath, read a good book and go to sleep for the night. When everything was ready to get loaded in the trunk of my car, I hoisted it over my shoulders and began trudging towards the parking garage. "Let me help you with that," I heard from behind me.

I knew who it was without even looking."Tom, I've got it," I answered as I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked the car. Kicking the trunk open, I lifted my bags into it with a grunt. "See?" I said as I turned around. "I had it."

Tom smiled. "And, so you did." He watched me like he wanted to say something to me, but wasn't quite sure how to word it. "Lora, would you like to have dinner with me?" he finally asked. "I mean, I know it's late, but, well..." His voice trailed off and he was rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Even in my exhausted state, he turned me on. "I want to," I sighed, "I really do, but I'm beat and I have to work at the hospital tomorrow."

"We don't have to go out," he replied as he got closer to me. He leaned down, his mouth next to my ear. "Turn around," he instructed. As I did, I felt him set his hands on my shoulders and begin rubbing. "Come back to my hotel and we'll order room service."

I shook my head. "That's still going out for me," I groaned as I leaned my head back against his chest, letting the warmth and relaxation he exuded wash over me. "I'll still need to go back to Hallie's."

He nuzzled my neck and I shuddered when his lips brushed over my skin. "Go there and pick up what you need first," he suggested, "You can stay in my suite and go to work in the morning."

I wanted to protest, to tell him I really shouldn't, but I didn't. "Hallie would be pissed if I did that." Even though she'd had her suspicions about the nature of my relationship with Tom, I knew she still harbored feelings for him and in the recesses of my mind, I felt some loyalty to her to not confirm those suspicions. 

"It's not about Hallie is it?" He'd stopped rubbing me. 

"Tom," I answered, "You know that I care for you and God knows I wished things were different..."

He spun me around and stared into my soul before I could say any more. "Do you mean it?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Mean what?"

"That you wish things were different?" The excitement that tinged his voice reflected the hope in his eyes. When I nodded, he kissed me, his lips crashing into mine, feeding hungrily on me, with more passion than he'd kissed me before. It made me weak and I grabbed his shoulders for support. 

The heat that grew in me as he kissed me was more intense than I'd ever felt and I wanted to down in it. But I knew I couldn't. I moved my hands to his chest and pushed him away. Breathlessly, I gasped, "Tom, please. I need to go."

He released me, his eyes betraying his defeat. "I'll wait for you," he declared. "However long you need, I'll wait."

He let me leave and I was numb as I drove to Hallie's. I let myself into the apartment and collapsed on the sofa, my heart screaming, my tears flowing. I wasn't crying about Paul. I hadn't even thought about him. It was all about Tom.


	9. Chapter 9

I awoke the next morning feeling like hell and considered calling into work, but I'd only been on the job for a short time and my practical self thought better of it. The moment I stepped through the doors, and my new colleagues saw my bruise, they doted on me, treating me as though I were the invalid, not the kids that we were there to treat. Though I appreciated their gestures, the only one I wanted to dote on me was Tom. 

I'd sent him a text on my first break, simply stating, "Thinking of you." He didn't reply right away, I imagined because of the rigor of his own schedule, so, at lunch, I'd sent him another. By my last break, I still hadn't heard from him, so I called him. He answered, but it was stilted. "If you're up for it," I said, "is that dinner invite from last night open?"

"Um," he hesitated, "I actually have a date tonight." There was a heavy pause as he waited for me to have a reaction. What he didn't hear was the feeling that all the wind had been knocked out of me. It manifested only as a small, strained gasp. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I wasn't sure what I should say, what I could say. My heart wanted to scream, "No! I want you, I want us to be together." I responded with, "Who?"

"A girl on the production staff, Olivia," he answered. "You may have met her yesterday."

"Why?" I squeaked.

He sighed on his end of the line. "I thought, after we left things last night, you had no interest in pursuing anything other than a friendship with me." I could hear him fidget with something. "You made it clear that you're being the loyal wife and trying to fix things with Paul. As much as I disagree with your decision, as a friend, I'll respect it, if that's what you want." He sounded hurt. I could hear it in the way he spoke, enunciating each word clearly, with precision that was reserved only for when he tried to detach himself from a situation.

"Alright," I said. "I hope you enjoy your date. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay, but I'll call you when I'm done. The director's giving me a funny look," he chuckled. And there he was, the Tom I knew, just before the line disconnected.

My day finished with the usual tasks, all tedious in their own ways, only made better by the fact that the patients were some of the most positive, upbeat people I'd ever met, their average age of seven notwithstanding. 

The last patient of the day, a little boy of the age of 8 named Joey, broke my heart in the best way possible. As I approached his bed in the leukemia ward, he'd patted the mattress next to him for me to sit down. "Hello, Miss Lora," he'd grinned. "You have an owie." His frail fingers reached up to my face and traced my bruise. "Who hurt you?"

"Hi, Joey," I answered. "I got in a fight." He was young and tender. I figured he didn't know the truth. 

"Sometimes," he whispered, "my daddy used to hit my mommy and she would have a owie like that." He knew he was right when a tear squeezed its way from my eye. With the sweetest look, he proclaimed, "If I married you, I would never hurt you. Will you marry me, Miss Lora?"

I did my best to keep my composure. "Well," I cleared my throat, "I think I'm a little bit too old for you, Joey."

He gave me a sad look for a moment, then a small smile. "That's Ok," he said, "but will you marry someone that loves you as much as I do?"

I nodded. "I will." I finished his visit with our routine things, his vitals, monitoring of his meds, and I waved goodbye as I left the ward.

All I could think of was Tom. I really did wish we'd met under different circumstances, that I wasn't married to Paul, but, things being as they were, I had no choice.

As I walked to my car, I heard someone call my name. I looked to both sides and didn't see anyone in front of me, but I felt a light tap on the back of my shoulder. I spun around and came face to face with Paul. "You should be behind bars," I scowled, trying to back away from him.

"Oh, God," he exclaimed upon seeing my face. "Did I do that to you?" I nodded and he began to apologize. "I'm so, so sorry..." He raised his hand to reach out and I flinched.

I crossed my arms. "Why are you here?"

"I posted bail and I needed to talk with you," he replied. "Can we talk?"

"Not here," I answered. 

"Please?" he looked pitiful when he begged. "Come to dinner with me, we'll be in public. I won't touch you."

"Fine," I acquiesced. "But I'm driving my own car."

I followed Paul to a place we both enjoyed, Stella's Trattoria, a few blocks from the hospital. Luckily, they were used to hospital workers as clientele, so I didn't look out of place in my scrubs. We waited to be seated and then were escorted to a small table in the back. As we followed the hostess, I spotted something that made my heart sink. On the opposite side, Tom was there, smiling, enjoying the company of a tanned, toned, chesty brunette, who I imagined was Olivia. He didn't notice me, and I didn't want him to, so I scurried along, eager to sit.

Paul sat with his back to where Tom was, shielding my view. Silently, we stared at our menus, avoiding what we didn't want to talk about. After our waiter took our orders, it was harder to not speak. "Lora," Paul finally said, "I know I've been a stupid man and I've done things that have really hurt you."

"You think?" I spat. 

"Please," he continued, "I'm serious. I want to make it up to you. You've seen fit to forgive me for so many things. I know I should expect you to leave me, after this, but, please, give me one more chance."

His eyes were brimming with sincerity and, for a moment, he reminded me of the Paul I'd fallen in love with. "I don't know if I can." I wanted nothing more than to be able to trust him at that moment.

Paul looked hurt. "I'm going into rehab," he stated flatly, finally. "I could really use your support."

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Tom and Olivia engaged in a kiss and my heart caught in my throat. Coughing down the threat of tears, I replied, "Alright, if you're willing to go to rehab." I wanted to scream, but Paul looked so satisfied. "I'll give you one more chance."

"Thank you," he smiled.

Our food was brought out and we ate quietly, enjoying each other's company. I got lower and lower in spirit as I saw Tom and Olivia get cozier and cozier in their corner booth, until they got up to leave. That's when Tom finally spied me. He approached our table with Olivia in tow, hand in hand. "Hello, Lora, Paul," he nodded. "I'd love you to meet Olivia. Olivia, this is Lora, whom I believe you may have met briefly yesterday, and her husband, Paul."

Olivia was a ball of energy, bright, vivacious. I could see why Tom had been attracted to her. Paul and I both stood to shake her hand. "Nice meeting you, again," I smiled cordially.

"Pleased to meet you," Paul bowed just slightly as he grasped her hand.

Tom gave me a look of disdain, which only I caught. I shrugged at him. It was all I could do, there was no other reaction. "Well, we should be off," he announced and in a moment, they were gone.

Paul and I finished our meal, paid and left. As we walked to our cars, he grabbed my hands and turned towards me. "Lora, come home," he whispered. Even in the dim sulfur light of the street lamp above us, I could see the love in his eyes. Again, I was brought back to the man I had married. 

"Alright," I answered. Paul grinned and pulled me into a kiss. 

We drove home, parking our cars side by side like they were meant to be. I walked through the familiar door, could smell the comfortable smells that said "home," made my way up the same stairs I had known for five years, undressed and climbed into the same comfortable bed. Paul climbed in behind me, curving his body against mine and, for the first time in more than three months, made love to me.

I would like to say that I enjoyed it, that all of our problems melted away, but I can't. The entire time I was with him,I imagined Tom. When it was over, Paul had rolled over and fell fast asleep, snoring into his pillow. I felt ashamed, dirty, and went to take a shower. 

The water in the shower was scalding, almost like I wanted to burn off Paul's touch. I washed myself with the roughest loofah I could find, scrubbing until my skin was raw, but it still didn't take away the feeling. Finally, I sat down in the tub, brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, letting the torrent of feelings unleash. Everything I'd been feeling came out in droves, the tears that I spilled felt hotter than the spray from the shower. 

When I got out, I grabbed some blankets and a pillow from the linen closet and made myself a place to sleep on the sofa. I put one of Tom's movies on the television and let his voice carry me into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter includes a graphic description of abuse and implied rape.

I spent the next four days with Paul, calling in sick to work, even though I had vowed not to. He had been wonderful for the first day, attentive and completely sober. It was like we had been as newlyweds and I was elated. Everything I'd been missing in our relationship was present. We slept in late, waking up happy, going out for the day to explore favorite places. I was sure it was what we needed and I felt like, for a moment, that I could fall back in love with him again. I even had the fleeting thought to drop the charges against him and I'd had the phone in my hand, ready to make the call, when I had second thoughts. I'm not sure what it was that had changed my mind about him, other than the little promises he'd made that seemed to fall through. There was always the underlying fear that I was holding onto the foundation of our marriage while the entire house was crumbling around my ears. I spoke to no one else about my thoughts and fears,though , not Hallie, nor Tom.

In fact, I hadn't spoken to Tom since the night at the restaurant, not that I hadn't tried. I'd sent him a text message the morning after, nothing special, only a quick little, "Thank you for understanding." He had sent back, "You're welcome. I'm here if you need to talk." The thought that he was there, waiting in the wings was heartwarming, but I wasn't sure that I would need it. 

As I got ready for work on the fifth day, I considered calling him, but I didn't. I had no idea of what his film schedule was and he'd made it clear that the director didn't appreciate my interruptions. I was only scheduled to work half the day and had plans to deliver the photos I had shot on the set that afternoon, anyway. 

Joey was a chipper part of my day. I had worn my Disney Princess scrubs and had tied my hair into a bun on top of my head, securing it with a miniature crown hair clip. He smiled as I approached his bedside. "You look like a princess, Miss Lora," he gushed. 

He reminded me of one of the cartoons where little boys have hearts in their eyes and I giggled, "Thank you, Joey, now let's check out what's been happening with you." I checked his chart and my smile fell. He had been getting worse, his treatments not working.

"Do you have a prince, yet?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes at me.

I tried my best to look happy, though I no longer felt like smiling. "I'm working on that," I answered. 

"You need to get away from the bad guy," he said, his little face suddenly serious. He sat up on his knees and grabbed my face, holding my cheeks with his chubby fingers. "Find your prince." That little interaction stayed with me the rest of the day. What did this little boy that didn't even know the circumstances and complications of my life see that I didn't? 

I peeled off the scrubs and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, stuffing the scrubs into a duffle bag before leaving the hospital. In my excitement, I ran to my car, my spirits high with the expectation that I would be able to speak to Tom, even if only briefly. I got in the car just as my cell phone rang and Paul's name popped up on the screen. "Hey," I answered. "I'm driving, so keep it quick."

"Babe," he slurred. "I thought you were working all day." I could swear that, by the way he was speaking, he had been drinking.

I let out a disgusted groan. "Paul, you've been drinking, haven't you?"

"No," he defended. "Not much, anyway." I wondered what his measurement of "not much" was. "Where are you going?"

"I have to drop off the photos at the film set," I answered. "I told you this last night."

"Yeah, last night..." his voice trailed off. In his haste to prove to me he wanted to work things out, he'd spent the night before throwing out all the booze in the house. I had been proud that he was willing to take that step, especially before he was scheduled to go into treatment for his alcoholism. "I got rid of everything," he reiterated.

"Where's you get the booze?" I asked, afraid to hear what his answer was.

Paul let out an amused chuckle. "We went to Jackie's for lunch."

"You're drunk at work?" I screeched. Once upon a time, I had been afraid of being perceived as the shrill, nagging wife. At that moment, it all went out the window. "You're going to lose your job!"

"Fuck you," he grunted before hanging up on me. 

I was stunned. He'd never been that bad before, always containing the drink to the hours when he got home, the days he was off. And I'd never heard that sort of hate in his voice before. He'd gone from jovial to vitriol in a matter of seconds. I shuddered to think of what I was going to go home to.

When I arrived at the movie set, I didn't see Tom right away. I headed to the office, my first order of business was to see the director and deliver the photos. I was told that everyone was working on a particularly intricate scene and that the disc I brought would be delivered. The PA that took the disc told me that the set had been closed due to some unsavory fan activity, so I wasn't even able to watch the scene, much less wait for Tom. I thanked her and began to trudge back to my car, my shoulders heavy with disappointment. As I rounded a corner, I ran right into him. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he gushed before realizing it was me. "Lora," he gasped. "I wasn't expecting you here." 

Looking up, I felt my heart leap. He was wearing the blue shirt I loved, a pair of tight jeans, his boots. "Tom!" I smiled. "I was hoping to see you. Do you have a little bit or are you needed right away?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "For you," he grinned, "I have all the time in the world." He grabbed my hand and led me to a bench that was out of the way and away from the bustle of the set. His hand was warm and I immediately felt electricity between us as his fingers played against mine. When we sat down, he asked, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "How was your date with Olivia?" I was trying hard not to look horribly jealous, but I was, in a way.

Tom blushed. "Well, it was... interesting." He seemed hesitant to go any further into detail. "We've had a couple others as well."

"You've moved on awfully quickly," I said wryly. 

He shrugged. "Well, if you must know, she asked me out. After you made your stance clear, I accepted." Grasping my hands, he studied me. "You're jealous, aren't you?" his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"No," I protested, but the truth was written across my face.

With a sad sigh, he commented, "So I'm supposed to pine away for you while you have Paul?" He had a sort of listlessness in his eyes. "Is that what you think of me?"

I shook my head. "No, it's just..." There was something about him that made me want to tell him everything. "I've made a mistake." I began to cry, my tears trailing hot along my cheek as they fell. "It's not Paul that I want." Despite the fact that I was spilling my feelings, I fought the urge to kiss him, to proclaim my love. "I don't love him," I sobbed.

He gathered me into his arms and pulled me close. "Shhh," he coddled. We sat that way for a while, my tears staining his shirt, until I had no more left. "Darling," he whispered, "I'm sorry, but I can't be the one you run to." It hurt to hear the words. "You told me you wanted to work things out with Paul and I backed off. I will be your friend. I will be here for you in that capacity, but it's not fair for you to come to me like this when I've begun to see someone else."

"Tom," I tried to argue, "Please, don't leave me like this." I grasped handfuls of his shirt to hold him to me. 

"I'm sorry," he replied with a kiss to the top of my head. He pulled me to standing and gave me another squeeze. "I've got to get into wardrobe and on set," he announced. "Please, call me when you get home. I want to know you're safe." 

As he released me and walked away, I collapsed on the bench and cried dry tears until I was drained, nothing but a husk of myself. I hadn't expected him to react that way. I don't know what I had expected, but it wasn't that.

How I managed to make it home in my emotional state, I have no idea. Paul was there when I arrived and greeted me at the door, sulking with a half-drunk beer in his hand. "Look what the cat dragged in," he grumbled, his words indicating his state of inebriation. "You look like hell."

"Well, so do you," I shot back. "Go hide out in your man cave, I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight and I don't feel like dealing with you." I buried my lost emotions under the guise of cruelty, though, in his case, I imagined it was more a matter of self-preservation. 

He let out a guffaw. "It wouldn't be any different than the last couple of nights, now, would it. Or, hell, the last three months, for that matter." He stomped upstairs and I heard him slam the door on his room shut. We were back to where we had been before I'd met Tom, except there was an undercurrent of antipathy that had never existed between us. Though he claimed to love me, I couldn't help but feel like he hated me. For that matter, I was no longer sure I loved him, either. Each little interaction we'd had since our make-up dinner added salt to the wounds we'd sustained and I began to feel a certain kind of enmity each time we spoke, revulsion with each semblance of touch. I fell asleep without getting undressed, realizing that my only comfort was that my shirt still held the light scent of Tom's cologne.

I called Hallie the next morning to let her know what had happened between Paul and I. "Do you want to stay with me?" she asked. 

"I'll call you tonight after work and let you know," I answered. In reality, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Tom had made it clear that he and I were only friends and I wasn't sure I could stay with Paul.

My entire day was spent in a haze, I was numb. So remote that Joey said he thought I was a ghost. As much as I didn't want it to effect my work, it did and I was sent home early. "You need to take care of yourself," my boss told me. In reality, I think he was afraid of one of my mistakes having deadly consequences. Either way, I was grateful for the release and decided to pamper myself with a visit to the spa.

The house was empty when I arrived home and I was relieved, but worried. I was afraid that something had happened to Paul. As much animosity that had built between us, I still couldn't help but care for him. I didn't want anything bad to happen to him, so I called his cell phone. It went unanswered. I curled into a blanket and fell asleep on the sofa as I watched television, only to be awakened in the early morning by his drunk attempt to seduce me. "You're my wife," he argued. 

"Get off me, you drunk," I'd squawked as I pushed him off me. "Go to bed." He grunted as he hit the floor, but he got the idea and stumbled upstairs while I fell back asleep.

"What happened last night?" Hallie demanded to know when she called me the next morning. "I got home and you weren't here and you haven't bothered to call me. I was worried about you.

"I know," I groaned. The phone was on speaker as I got ready for work. My voice began to crack as I told her about the events of the last day. "The worst part is, I know I should try to work it out with Paul," I groaned. "I promised him I would, but I don't think I can."

"Why not?" Hallie asked suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"You mean, besides the fact that I can't trust him?" I asked. I wanted to tell her about Tom, but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

Hallie figured it out without me saying a thing."You're in love with Tom, aren't you?" Her voice was quiet, calm. She sounded like she accepted something that was inevitable. When I failed to truly confirm it, she added, "I can't say I blame you. Hell, you've been in love with him since before you met him."

With a sigh, I answered, "You're not wrong. I've been trying to resist for the sake of my marriage, but, God, I'm falling hard."

"Has anything else happened between you?" 

Picking up immediately on what she was trying to say, I took a deep breath and let it out, the words pouring out. "No, I haven't slept with him, yet, but I didn't think that was a prerequisite for love, besides, he's dating a woman on the production staff and made it clear when I told him how I felt that we were only friends."

"You told him you were falling in love with him and he still rejected you?" she asked. "He doesn't seem like that type of guy."

"No, I only told him that I didn't want Paul," I lamented. "I should have told him I loved him, shouldn't I?"

Hallie chuckled, but I missed what she said because I heard a noise behind me. "Hang on a sec, Hal," I whispered. I turned around to see Paul standing in the room behind me. His face was red, pulled into a tight scowl, and his shoulders squared up. I his hand, he held a nearly empty whiskey bottle, which he drained as he glared at me. He hadn't changed from the clothes he'd had on the night before.

"Tell Hallie you'll have to call her back," he said coldly. 

I went to do as he said but Hallie had heard. "Keep me on the line and pretend you're hanging up," she whispered. "If anything bad happens, I'll call the police for you."

"Hey, Hallie," I cleared my throat, swallowing the fear that threatened to encompass me, "I'll have to let you go. We'll talk later, okay?" I waited a moment, gave a giggle like she'd said something amusing and then set the phone down on the sofa next to me. 

Paul approached, his demeanor menacing. "You've been cheating on me, haven't you?" he accused. As he got closer, I could smell the sourness of whiskey on his breath and the stench of vomit and sweat that emanated from him. He'd told me he got rid of all the liquor in the house the moment he got home, but he had obviously lied. "With that actor. The one I invited for dinner. You haven't been fucking me because you've been fucking him," he spat, spraying my face with whiskey-scented saliva.

"Tom," I corrected, shaking my head. "No, I've been faithful," I whimpered as he reached behind me and pulled me up by the back of my neck. "Let me go!"

His breath was putrid, hot against my cheek as he grumbled, "I heard everything you told her." He threw me back down on the sofa, hard enough that the impact knocked my phone to the floor. Upon seeing Hallie's icon on the screen as a live call, he raged, bringing his foot down and smashing it, shattering the screen and, he hoped, ending the call. If Hallie was still on the line, she at least had the good sense to stay silent.

"Paul, you're drunk," I pleaded. "Just let me go. You can have everything."

He turned his pointed gaze to me, eyes burning with fury. "Shut up, you bitch!" he yelled. "Don't you get it? I only ever wanted you." 

I struggled to get up, but he jumped on me, pinning me to the sofa with his forearm pressed precariously over my neck. "Please," I struggled for breath. "You have me, Paul." The room was beginning to get dark the longer he held me there. "Please, no," I whispered, wishing it were a scream, that someone would hear me as he began to pummel at me with his free hand, hitting me in the gut, making my insides scream in agony. As I passed out, I felt the air grow cooler, realizing he had torn off my scrubs and I was helpless to defend myself. 

"You will only ever belong to me, and if I can't have you, none else will, either," I heard him rasp in my ear as the entire world faded into nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

When I awoke, I was dizzy and disoriented. The sounds of silence perforated with an occasional clank, a muffled voice or a beep swam through my head. I tried to sit up, but the effort made me feel like I'd been skewered, my entire lower body burning with a searing pain. There was a button by my hand and I pushed it, my mind picking up somehow that I was in a hospital bed. 

A nurse peered into the room. "Ah, you're awake," she observed as she came to stand by my bed. She picked up my wrist and then set it back down gently. "How are you feeling?" she asked. I could only answer with a moan and a shake of my head. "Well, I'll have to take that," she smiled brightly as she scribbled something on my chart. "I'll send the doctor in."

As she left the room, I glanced around as my eyes adjusted to the light that she'd left on. There was a table at the far end covered with flowers and cards. Next to it, mounted on the wall, a television. Not much more, other than a window, the standard hospital equipment and blase walls. 

Lying my head back down on my pillow, I closed my eyes and tried to remember what had happened, but it was blank. The last flash I'd had was Paul's face above mine. I shuddered, the image too grim for me. I wanted to scream and I felt the bile rise up in my stomach as I gagged. The only thing I could conjure up to make the bitter image of Paul disappear was Tom's smile, and even that left me crestfallen.

By the time the doctor arrived, I was slightly more coherent and in better spirits. I asked her what had happened to me, needing to know the truth, yet fearing it. The look in her eyes was one of pity, the kind most people give women who have returned to their abusers again and again, as she told me with a clinical tone how I'd been admitted after a brutal assault, that I'd been strangled, raped and beaten within an inch of my life. "Frankly, we've all been pulling for you," she commented, "Just to bring that bastard to justice." 

I brought my hand up to my throat, fingering the crease of my neck, feeling the bruise there. "What happened to Paul?" I asked. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I was married to the bastard in question. "Is he in jail?"

"You'll have to ask the officer assigned to your case," she shrugged. "I don''t know anything about that." She finished checking me and promptly left the room, leaving me to sort out whatever feelings that arose. I was repulsed and then angry. Depressed and then resigned. It was a roller coaster and I the only rider. There was a moment there that I wished he'd killed me, but then I was happy that I'd made it. I was a survivor.

I fell back asleep, a victim to my dreams. I'd felt like I was floating, a dust mote on a window pane, free-floating above the floor, only to be stepped upon. If it were some sort of metaphor for what had happened to me, I failed to make the connection. My mind was swirling with all different thoughts and emotions and I ended up waking in a pool of sweat and pain. I must have slept for hours because, where the shadows on the wall had been when I'd come to at first, there was now nothing. The sky outside the window pitch black.

I ached like I'd been run over by a steam roller and, as I groaned, I felt someone take my hand. "You're awake, again," I heard Hallie say. "Welcome back."

"Hal, what?" I groaned, unable to say much more.

She pet the top of my head like I was a child. "You've been out for nearly a week," she answered. "Boy, am I happy to hear your voice. I was wondering if you'd be coming back to us."

I took a painfully deep breath. "Paul," I gasped.

Hallie shook her head. "No, he's not here."

"No," I grunted, "What happened?"

She pulled a chair up from behind her and sat down, never letting go of my hand. "I heard everything," she said, her voice tinged with emotion. "Even after he broke your phone, I could hear. I called the police when I heard him start beating you up." She looked pained, like she wanted to tell me more, give me more details, but was unable to. "I felt so helpless, it was horrible."

"The doctor said he raped me..." Just the thought of the word made me hurt even more. Though we'd had sex many times during our five years of marriage, I couldn't imagine how they'd come to that conclusion.

Hallie looked pained and turned her eyes away from mine. "He did," she confirmed. "When they got to your house, you were naked and bleeding on the sofa."

"Where is he?" I asked, hoping the answer would be that he had been arrested again and was rotting in jail. 

"I'm sorry," she gushed. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" I tried to prop myself up on my elbows, but the pain was too great and I collapsed back against the mattress.

She squeezed my hand. "He's out there, somewhere. He was gone by the time the police got there."

A shudder crawled across my body. Paul wasn't caught. He wasn't in jail. He was free. "Tom?" I asked quietly.

"Finished shooting what he could and has gone back to London," she replied, scrutinizing my face. "He came to see you before he left, with Olivia. She's incredibly nice, not to mention a knockout. I can see why he's attracted to her." Hallie realized she'd said too much by the pall that fell over my face. "Sorry," she apologized.

I shook my head. "It's okay," I sighed. "I should've known better."

"I'm sorry, Miss," a nurse peered into the room and addressed Hallie, "there's an officer here to question your friend. You'll need to leave."

"Alright," Hallie answered her. As she stood up, she kissed my forehead. "You fight and you get well," she said as she left.

The officer walked into the room as she left and tipped his hat at her. Hallie blushed as she scurried into the hallway. As he approached my bed, he introduced himself. "I'm Officer Chris Halloran," he said politely. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

"I'll answer what I can," I replied, wincing. "I don't remember much." 

Officer Halloran took a seat in the chair vacated by Hallie and pulled a note pad from his pocket and proceeded to ask me about the nature of my relationship to Paul, what our marriage was like, what I could remember from the night that he attacked me. I gave as complete of answers as I could, which I was afraid wouldn't be enough. In the end, he thanked me for my time and suggested that I file for a protective order as soon as possible. 

I could hear him talking with Hallie in the hallway after he left the room and I could hear her lilting voice. It was a tone she only used when she was attracted to someone. I couldn't blame her, he was cute, with intelligent blue eyes, short-cropped brown hair, and baby face. As she came back into the room, I commented, "He's cute!"

Hallie's blush blushed. "Yeah, he is," she grinned. "Too bad he's working your case."

"Is he single?" I wanted Hallie to be happy, at least happier than I was.

She nodded. "Yeah," she gushed. "He's called me almost every day to ask me questions." She was wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"You'd be a cute couple," I suggested.

"You think so?" Hallie asked. "I really like him." She shuffled her foot on the floor for a moment before stopping herself. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said as she pulled a folded envelope from her purse. "Tom left this for you when he was here." 

She handed me the envelope and I ripped it open carefully. I held it in front of my eyes and squinted to focus for a moment.

"My Darling Lora,

I feel absolutely horrible to be writing this letter, as it would be more preferable for me to be speaking to you in person. Present circumstances as they are, I know that is impossible. Please allow me to express my sincerest regret that this happened to you. I feel responsible. Had I not rejected you when you came to me in your time of need, I can't help but feel that none of this would have happened. It is something that I can't go back and change, but I will have to live with the remorse of my actions for the rest of my life. I hope you can see your way to forgive me, that we may remain friends, as I value our relationship as much as I value my family.

Filming has wrapped up ahead of schedule and I will be returning to London. I was holding out hope that you would awaken before I needed to leave, but, if you are reading this, obviously that has not happened. 

I wish you health and a speedy recovery.

Love,  
Tom"

I was weeping as I finished the letter, my entire body felt hot and achy. "Damn it," I cried as I balled the letter up and threw it as best as I could against the wall. "Why did he have to be so damn cordial? If he'd been an asshole about this, I could have dealt with it better."

"What did it say?" Hallie asked as she retrieved it from its landing place on the floor. "Do you mind if I read it?"

"Go ahead." I closed my eyes, seeing only his face, my heart feeling the ache of loneliness, heartache filling the silence as she read it.

Hallie let out a half-whistle as she put the letter down. "Wow," she groaned. "He blames himself."

"Yeah, but I don't blame him," I gulped. "I blame my own stupid ass. I shouldn't have gone back to Paul. If I'd have trusted my own intuition, I wouldn't be in this predicament."

"Why?" she asked. "What actually happened between you?"

I broke down and told her everything about what had happened between Tom and I, the time we spent together, the stolen kisses, how I pushed him away in favor of Paul, everything. At the end of it, I expected her to judge me, to castigate me for making such an awful decision. Instead, she softly accepted part of the blame. "I told you that you needed to honor your marriage," she whispered. "I didn't realize how bad it was between you and Paul. I'm so sorry."

"It didn't get that bad until I met Tom," I cried. "Isn't that the crux of it? That I met this man who turned my world upside down and, in an effort to hold onto what I thought I had, I lost what meant everything?"

"You should call him," she suggested. 

"I don't even have his number," I complained. "It was in my phone that Paul destroyed. Besides, I'm the last person he probably wants to hear from. I've made a fine mess of things."

Hallie smiled and handed me hers. "He wanted me to call him when you woke up," she smiled. "I have it right here and I think he'd like a status update from you instead."

The line rang a couple times, each ring making me more nervous. I had no idea what time it was in London, but I assumed it was either late at night or early in the morning and I really didn't want to disturb him. When he answered, he sounded groggy. "Hallie?" There was a yawn, then, more alert, he asked, "Is Lora awake?"

"Tom," I said, making an attempt to sound as chipper as I could. "It's not Hallie, it's me."

"Lora?" He sounded astounded. "You're awake! Are you okay? Did you get my letter?"

"I've been better," I admitted. "The pain is excruciating and yes, I did get your letter and I hear you came to see me before you left, with Olivia." I don't know why I brought her up in the first place. "How is she?"

Tom paused for a moment. "She's fine," he finally answered, "She's in L.A. right now."

"So, you're trying the long-distance romance now," I commented, trying to find as non-chalant as possible. In reality, the conversation hurt worse than my injuries, but I couldn't let him know that.

"Lora..." he began.

"Tom, I know, you don't want me hung up on that," I interrupted. "But I am. And yes, I am jealous."

"No." He puffed his breath out, blowing exasperation into the phone. "I wanted to tell you that Olivia and I didn't work out."

"Oh." I immediately felt more stupid than I had before.

"And the reason I wanted to know when you were awake is because I couldn't live with the guilt if you didn't survive," he gushed. 

I clucked at him. "Don't blame yourself, Tom, please. You weren't the stupid bitch who kept trying to go back to an abusive relationship and you definitely were not the assailant in this case."

"Don't say that," he argued impatiently. "You're not a stupid bitch. Don't think that. That is Paul talking."

His mention of Paul stung as much as my mention of Olivia. "Ouch," I replied. "But if that's not what I am, than what am I?" I began to cry again and I'm sure he could tell by the way my voice wavered. "What am I?"

Softly, he answered, "You're a wonderful, beautiful, vivacious woman." 

"Is that what you think of me?" My tears began to subside as Hallie handed me a tissue from the box on the nightstand.

"Yes." 

He said something else, but I couldn't hear because, at that moment, a nurse came in to check on me and announced loudly, "There are no cell phones allowed in the wards!"

"Sorry, Tom, I've got to go," I said quickly before hanging it up and handing it back to Hallie.


	12. Chapter 12

Officer Halloran paid a visit again the next day, this time with an entire dossier of questions he needed to ask. "If you're up for it," he shrugged. "We can always wait for another day."

"No," I groaned, "I'd just as soon catch that asshole." I had been transferred from the ICU to one of the other wards and was allowed a bed in which I could sit up by way of remote control. The motor whirred as I adjusted it, grinding to a stop as I let go of the button. "Have you heard anything else?" I wanted to press him more for what had happened when the police had arrived, how they had found me. I gathered that Officer Halloran was one of the first on scene, judging by the way he watched me. It would have been uncomfortable under any other circumstances.

Clearing his throat, he answered, "We found Paul's car last night about ten miles out of Springdale."

"I take it he wasn't with it." I could only hope.

He shook his head. "No, and there was no sign of foul play, either. He most likely abandoned it." I took a deep breath and puffed out my cheeks as he continued. "We're afraid he may come back once he realizes you are alive."

I let the air out in a stream through puckered lips. "So, now what?"

"Well," he sighed, "We put you under guard and hope he'd dumb enough to try and come back."

"He might be," I grimaced. "Now, about those questions."

Officer Halloran pulled a pen from his pocket and ruffled the pages he had before sitting down at the chair next to my bed, using the mobile table as a writing desk. "Was there any previous indication you had that Paul might attack you?" 

I nodded. "He was getting progressively violent when he drank," I answered. "He threatened a friend and he hit me on one other occasion." I watched as Halloran wrote notes about what I had told him. My eyes flicked up to him when he spoke again.

"Is there anywhere you can think of that he might hide? Any friends of family where he might seek refuge?" He looked back up at me from his notes. 

"Not that I can think of," I said after thinking for a moment. "All his friends are local, his mom died three years ago, he has no idea where his dad is and his brother is upstate."

"Graemer State Prison?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "What for?"

I shrugged. "As far as I know, it had something to do with fraud."

He stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth as he wrote and left it there as he asked the next question. "Is there anyone else you can think of he may want to hurt?"

Sucking in a sharp breath, I closed my eyes and let it out quickly. "Yes. Tom."

"Tom? Does he have a last name?" 

"Hiddleston."

Officer Halloran looked at me for a moment, trying to comprehend what I had just said. "The actor?" He asked incredulously. I nodded and sucked my lips in, anticipating the next question. "Why would Paul have anything against a British actor?"

My lips released with a smack. "Because Paul was of the assumption that Tom and I were carrying on an affair." 

"And he thought this, why?" he shook his head.

I guessed at that moment that Hallie hadn't told him about the movie Tom had been filming, or anything of the nature of our relationship. I explained everything, finishing with, "You can call him and ask him, if you'd like." I pulled out the slip of paper from under the telephone with Tom's number on it that Hallie had left.

The officer copied the number down, then handed it back. "Where is Mr. Hiddleston now?"

"When I spoke with him last night, he was presumably in London," I sighed.

He nodded, noticing the fatigue that was beginning to set in for me. "Well," he pronounced as he stood up, "That's all I have for you now. I'll keep you informed of anything we find out. Your guard should be here any minute."

"Thanks," I answered as I closed my eyes. "And you should ask Hallie out, she's got the hots for you." I grinned, knowing the feeling was mutual.

"I can't date anyone who is a witness to a current investigation," he replied, his voice tinged with a bit of melancholy. "It's a conflict of interest."

"Well, then you better find Paul quickly, huh?"

I heard Officer Halloran leave the room and then I was encompassed by the muted sounds of the hospital once again. Most people disliked hospitals, but I was comforted by the various noises. I figured it was because I worked in one. Each small beep, tick or alarm, I could place with a specific machine. Of course, all the reminiscing about equipment led me to wondering about my patients. Most specifically, I worried about Joey. He was always the bright spot in my rounds. I made a mental note to call my boss and ask about him when I was able to. 

Even though I had only awakened an hour prior to Officer Halloran's visit, it had drained me. I felt each and every muscle scream, each bruise ache. I tried to roll on my side, to hug a pillow and sleep in a fetal position, but it was excruciating and I couldn't put myself through that torture. Once I finally got to sleep, I fell into a dreamless abyss, thankful that I was not haunted by Paul's face.

The doctor's hand prodding against my belly woke me up. "Wha? What time is it?" I asked groggily.

"Five," she answered. "You seem to be doing well, not in as much pain as last night?"

I nodded. "Only when I try to roll over."

"Well," she clucked, "You shouldn't push it, not just yet, anyway." She picked up my chart, wrote a note in it and set it back down. "I'm sure you'd like to know that there were no severe injuries to your abdomen." When I scowled and raised my eyebrow, she explained. "Due to the nature of your injuries, namely the rape, there was the possibility that you may have been unable to have children."

I was stunned. No one had told me how bad any of my injuries were, only that I had nearly died. "What the hell did he do to me?" I asked, seething.

"I'm not sure you need to know the intimate details," she tried to say.

"They happened to me," I growled. "It was intimately TO ME! I deserve to know."

She picked up my chart again, flipping it to the back page. "You were admitted," she read, "For injuries sustained during a sexual assault and strangling. You had injuries that were consistent with having been assaulted with something hard, as there were tears both..."

I stopped her, holding one hand up and the other pressed on my stomach. "You're right," I gasped, "I don't need to know." She had been right, it was too damaging for me to know the exact nature of the assault. I felt ill, my head was swimming, my stomach lurching. "I feel sick," I groaned.

She grabbed an emesis dish from a drawer under the bed and handed it to me. I retched, each convulsion sending a burst of torture through my midsection. I felt her hand gently rub my back. "Relax," she whispered. "The more relaxed you are, the less pain you'll have."

Taking a deep breath, I remembered my meditation. I had needed to practice circular breathing for yoga class and I never thought it would come in handy for anything else, but now I channeled that, letting the breath out through my mouth, then inhaling again through my nose before completing the cycle again. The nausea dissipated and I handed the bowl back to her. "Thank you," I rasped. 

"You'll be out of the hospital soon," she disclosed, "Possibly tomorrow even. I'd like to get you set up with a therapist who can help you recover emotionally as well."

I nodded. "I'd like that."

Hallie came by a few minutes after my doctor left, her only free time after work. "You're looking much better," she commented as she entered and sat down on the bed next to me. She stroked my head in a motherly fashion.

"Thanks," I smiled weakly. "Doc says I'll be out soon, maybe as early as tomorrow."

"That's great news!" She was so boisterous and energetic that it was rubbing off on me. "Have you told Tom the good news yet?"

I shook my head. "Officer Halloran was asking questions this morning and I don't think he believed me about Tom."

The moment Hallie heard Officer Halloran's name, she turned scarlet. "Did you give him Tom's number?" she asked.

"I did, but I don't know if he called him." I took a deep breath. "Tom might be in danger."

"Why?" Hallie seemed as concerned as I was. "Do they think Paul will go after him?"

"That is one theory." I propped myself up more, flinching at the brief flash of pain. I could tell I was beginning to recover because nothing hurt as badly as it had earlier. "Did you notice the guard outside?"

She nodded. "He got my ID and made me sign in before he'd let me in," she divulged. "I'm glad you're safe. Is he going home with you?"

"I don't know." In reality, I hadn't been told when I was going home, if I was going home, not that I wanted to. My house held nothing but horrific memories for me, now, and the thought of returning to it gave me severe anxiety. "I don't want to go home," I cried. "I just can't go back there."

"I don't think they'd let you stay with me," she sighed. "My place is a bit unprepared for an invalid. I don't think you'd repair well lying on my sofa."

"Nope, probably not," I agreed. "Maybe a safe house." Of course, I could assume anything, but until it actually was revealed where I would be going, everything was up in the air.

We sat in silence for a bit, both of us unsure what to say to continue on in the conversation. I didn't want to seem rude. I valued her support over anyone else's, but I finally announced, "Hallie, I'd love to chat more, but I should call Tom and I'd like to do so in private." 

She nodded in understanding as she stood up and went towards the door. "Call and let me know when and where you are going."

"I will." I watched her leave and waited until I was sure she was gone before I picked up the phone. I pulled the slip of paper out from under it and dialed, half afraid that the hospital's phone system would block it. Luckily, it went through. It rang once, then twice, before he answered. "Hello?" 

"Hi, Tom," I said. "How are you?"

"Lora!" he replied, his voice suddenly losing the apprehension of answering a call that he didn't recognize the number from to excitement. "I should be asking you that question."

"I'm feeling better." I rolled on my hip slightly and grunted at the pain. "Everything still hurts, but the more I move, the less it hurts."

"That's wonderful to hear." I could tell he was smiling, just by the slight inflection and rise in the tone of his voice. "Have they told you when you're getting out?"

"Possibly tomorrow," I answered. "That's not why I called, though. Are you still in London?"

"Until tomorrow, why?" He sounded concerned.

I took a deep breath. "Paul is on the loose and they're afraid he may come after you."

"I'm scheduled to be back there in two days for some additional scenes," he groaned. "I guess I'll have to get some additional security." He paused. "Are you alright? You sound more calm than I might be under the same circumstance."

"I have a guard, for now," I answered. "I don't want to go home and I'm not sure where else I'll be able to go."

"Ah, there's the worry," he commented. "Would they put you up in a hotel?"

"Or a safe house," I shrugged. "I have no idea." I closed my eyes. "Tom?"

"Yes?"

"I miss you." I was too exhausted to say anything else. "I'm tired. I'll call you when they release me."

"I miss you, too," he choked. I was about to hang up when I heard his voice on the other end again. "Lora!" But it was too late. The receiver slipped from my hand and crashed down upon the cradle. 

In a panic, I picked it up. "Tom?" I cried. "Tom?" But all I heard was a dial tone. I tried to call him back, but, this time, the call was denied. When I dialed the hospital switchboard, I was informed that there was only one international call allowed per day, hospital policy. I collapsed into my pillows and lowered my bed to a comfortable position before crying myself to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, I woke up early. I wasn't sure why until I heard the soft trills of a bird tweeting right outside my window. As I rolled my head, I could see the glow of sunshine as it cascaded through the cracks in the curtains. To me, it felt like hope. It was waking up from a nightmare to find yourself in Heaven.

I stretched and yawned as I reached for the phone. Dialing the number for Children's Hospital, I felt a sense of urgency. As the other end of the line rang, I fidgeted with the edge of my blanket and when it was answered, I jumped. "Hi, this is Lora," I greeted the operator, "Can I speak with Dr. Houston?" She told me to hold for a moment and within seconds, my supervisor was on the phone.

"Hello, Lora," she answered. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you for a while. Does this mean you're coming back to us?"

I took a deep breath. "Sadly, no," I answered. "I haven't been released yet and they haven't caught Paul yet. I don't know when I'll be able to work." I hadn't thought about the implications of my situation to my job until just then. "I'll understand if you need to fill my position."

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "We'll hire a temp unto you can come back."

Letting out a sigh of relief, I asked, "Janet, how is Joey?" She knew he was my favorite of the kids, even so, I wasn't sure how much she could divulge about what was happening with him.

"Not good," she answered. "Now, the only reason I'm able to tell you this is because he's your patient, too, but his blood count has been steadily dropping. He'll be starting a round of radiation and chemo at the end of the week, but he's got such an aggressive form that chances of it working are slim." She heard me sniffle as my heart went out to him and followed up with, "I'm sorry."

"He's such a special boy," I bawled. "I wish there were some way to help him."

"He is on the list for a bone marrow transplant," she suggested. "If you at least get registered, you may not be able to help Joey, but you might be able to help someone else."

"I will," I sighed. "Thanks, Janet." I hung up the phone and closed my eyes. The day full of possibilities I had awoken to was suddenly less bright, less promising. I wanted to leap out of bed, throw on some clothes and go hug little Joey. Of course, it was all impossible, and that was the definite down side of working where I did. I was told not to form attachments, but I was way too emotional not to.

That being said, I was determined to get up and out of the bed as much as I could, to strengthen myself so, hopefully, I would be able to visit him. I swung my feet over the edge and slowly, painfully, used the rail on the side to pull myself to a seated position. My entire body was screaming, but I persevered. Using the railing, I slid off the edge of the bed and held myself up, my hands gripping the bar, my arms wrapped around it. I tried to take a step and my legs wobbled weakly for a moment, but I was able to stabilize myself and shuffle to the table that held all the well-wishes.

Curious as to who had sent all the cards and flowers, I began perusing through them, leaning against the table for support. There were cards from my brothers and their families, both out of state or they would have visited, various friends that had heard about my plight on the news, and one from Tom. I hadn't realized he'd sent one, no one had mentioned it, not even him, but I recognized his handwriting. Opening it up, I traced the words with my fingers, as though it would make me feel closer to him. He had written essentially the same thing he'd said in his letter, though less wordy, with one glaring difference; he had signed it, "I love you! Tom." I nearly lost my breath and a wave of warmth washed over me as I read it. Was that what he kept trying to tell me in our interrupted phone calls?

A nurse knocked on my door and entered, finding me holding the card against my heart with my eyes closed as I stood. "You shouldn't be out of bed," she scolded.

"I wanted to see if I could do it," I replied as I opened my eyes. She came over to me and grasped my elbow to help me back to the bed. "I've got it," I snapped, pulling my arm from her and making my way back across the room. "See?"

She smirked and nodded. "I wish you'd have called one of us to help you. What if you'd fallen?"

"I didn't," I argued. "I'm tired of being in this bed. I wanted to get up and stretch, no matter how painful."

"Pain?" she asked with a look of consternation. "Where?"

I rubbed my belly. "Only here. Mostly from sitting up."

She approached me again and helped me hoist myself back onto the bed and lie down before pressing her hand on my stomach. "Here?" I nodded and she moved it to the side. "How about here?" Another nod and she moved to the other side. "Here as well?" I nodded a third time. She rubbed her hands together and said, "Well, it doesn't feel tender, which is good. I think what you may be feeling is just the result of internal bruising. I'll have your doctor come in and check to make sure."

"Alright," I sighed. The news about Joey had made me stir crazy and Tom's card had added to my restlessness. I began to think that the sooner I got out of the hospital, the better, so my life could begin again, only better this time.

As I adjusted the bed up, I reached over and grabbed the phone. Once I was settled, I dialed Hallie's number. I wasn't sure if she was at work or not, but I hoped she'd at least be able to talk for a little while. It rang three times before she answered with, "Hey, I'm at work, keep it quick."

"How come you didn't tell me he sent me a card?" I asked, attempting not to make myself sound too accusatory.

"I didn't know," she answered. "The nurses were the ones that opened them and set everything up. I only glanced at them when I came in, but I never read any of them." She had no reason to lie and her voice was more explanatory than defensive.

 

"Hal," I swooned, "He wrote, 'I love you.'"

 

She took a moment. "He did what?" She sounded as surprised as I had been. I repeated myself, my heart beginning to swell a little more each time I said it. Hallie scoffed, "Well, maybe it was just his way of being nice." I couldn't help but hear the disdain in her voice. "You know, like I sign things 'With love, from Hallie'?"

 

 

I let a deep breath escape my lips. "This isn't like that," I protested. "It's not just being cordial. He could have just written 'Kindest Regards, Tom.'" I had hoped Hallie would be a little more supportive of my relationship with Tom, but I began to slowly realize that, even though she'd had that attraction to Officer Halloran, deep down, she still resented that Tom had lavished his energy and attention on me.

 

 

Before I could say anything else, Hallie cut the conversation short. "I've gotta go, Lora," she snapped. "Don't call me until you get released. I'll be happy to take you to... wherever you're going." With that, she hung up.

 

 

My doctor entered the room as soon as I had replaced the phone onto its cradle. "I hear you had a little adventure this morning," she smiled. "How did it feel?"

 

 

"It hurt, at first," I answered, "But, as I got along, I felt stronger and it was wonderful." I couldn't think of any other way to describe it. "I also got a chance to look at all the wonderful cards and flowers over there." I pointed at the table full of gifts.

 

 

She poked and prodded me, lifting my legs and asking me to flex them and push against her. "You are a lucky lady to have that many people that care about you," she commented. "And by the looks of it, you will be able to leave tomorrow."

 

 

"Have you let the police know?" I asked. "I don't even know where I'm going when I'm discharged, yet."

 

 

Shaking her head, she answered, "I will let Officer Halloran know. I'm sure he will want to visit and discuss the plans with you." As she left the room, she finished glanced back at me. "If I were you, I'd get up from that bed and walk around more. I'll even give you clearance to take a shower," she added with a smile.

 

 

Honestly, I had been thinking of calling Tom before her visit, but the news that I was clear to take my first shower in over a week was music to my ears. The thought of the endless hot water was Heaven to me and put all other things aside. I edged myself off the bed and padded my way slowly into my private bathroom, the whole time saying a private "Hallelujah" to the end of the awkward nurse sponge baths I had endured the entire week. Peeling off the gown I wore, I turned the water on in the stall and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. It was gloriously hot, scalding like I liked it, hot enough to leave red streaks on my pale skin and feel like it was removing every last bit of the ordeal I had endured, all the abuse, everything.

 

 

By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt renewed. No longer did the filthy residue that Paul had left me with cling to my skin; I was refreshed, ready to begin life anew. A nurse checked in while I was drying off and brought me a new gown to wear, apologizing that she didn't have anything else. "It's alright," I told her. "I'm just happy to have something clean to wear."

 

 

In reality, I would have been content just to wrap myself in a starched sheet and wander around the room. Instead, I turned on the television and flipped the channel to something innocuous before retrieving some paper and a pen from the table of gifts and settling down at the chair next to the bed. I pulled the rolling table I used to put my food on when it was meal time to the front of me and began to write out my feelings. It was written as a letter to Tom, but I had no concrete intention on sending it to him.

 

"Dear Tom,

So many things have happened in my life that I have regretted. Many of those, after the fact. I don't include you in there at all. I have never regretted how we met, never regretted kissing you, even though it may have seemed I did at the time. You came to me at the time when I needed you most, even though I didn't know I did. And now, as I write this, I am overwhelmed.

 

Yes, I was in love with Paul and, yes, I tried to keep my marriage together for that reason, but now that these events have happened, I know that it wasn't real. Any of it. There was no love between Paul and I, I know that now. What he had was possessive animosity and I, well, I kept clinging to the idea that I'm sure many women in the same circumstance cling to, that if I work harder, smarter, love him more, that he would love and accept me as I was, only it was not as I was. These are now fundamental truths of my life and I must accept them before I can allow myself to move on. I know you blame yourself for not being there when I was attacked, but you had no idea things were truly that awful. No one did. Not Hallie, not my brothers, not my boss. No one except Paul and I knew it was that bad and I had blinders on. You were the only person who saw his potential towards violence and you spoke up. You warned me and I didn't listen. In my own stubborn way, it was partially my own fault. They say this is something that victims often feel and I am no different. I can't help that I feel that way. I can, however, take steps to protect myself.

 

Paul will never be in my life again. That much is certain, and not just because of the legal implications. I will not allow him to occupy any more of my time nor any more of my energy. My focus from now on will be towards bettering myself. If I were to continue to be the doormat I was, I would only set myself up for someone else to take advantage of me and abuse my affections. And I can't, Tom, I just can't. I would like to say that I am in love with you, but I don't know yet if those feelings are real or if I just attached them to you in some desperate attempt for genuine affection. You have been the first man in a long time to value me for me and show me what it is to be a decently kind person, and for that, I do love you. I can't ask you to wait for me, because I have no idea how long this process will take me. There is a certain amount of grief I need to overcome as well as a certain amount of rebuilding left to be done. I hope you understand and I hope that you will be there to hold my hand along the way, but, even if you can't, I will understand.

 

Love, Lora"

 

I had never put my emotions to the page before like that and, even as I wrote the words, they felt hollow. Folding up the pages, I stowed them in the drawer of the nightstand and climbed up onto the bed to await my dinner tray. The world felt like it was full of possibilities and I was giddy to see what my future held. Looking at the clock, I realized that Tom would most likely be in the plane on his way back to the city, back to the movie set and, hopefully, back to me and my spirits dropped when I thought about my earlier plan to call him. Bad timing put the kibosh on that.

 

The next day, I awoke from a deep, dreamless, contented sleep. I was allowed to dress in normal clothes that Hallie had brought me for my release, a pair of comfortable yoga pants, some slip on shoes and a loose-fitting blue t-shirt with a Tardis on it. It occurred to me that I had not worn my own clothes for a while and, during my stay in the hospital, I had lost some weight. Everything was looser on me, including my wedding ring. I had nearly forgotten it was there, so used to its existence on my finger as it was, that I didn't notice it until it nearly fell off as I slipped my pants on. There was a brief moment of terror as I felt it slide down and hover at the end of my ring finger; it was the fear of something lost. But, as I pushed it back in place, I was suddenly ashamed to be wearing it, to be worrying about it. The ring represented everything that had gone wrong in my life and I suddenly found myself angered by my need to hang onto it. I pulled it from my finger and angrily flung it at the door, nearly hitting Officer Halloran as he peeked his head through the door.

 

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked.

 

I shrugged. "Almost." There wasn't much to pack. The nurses the night before had boxed up all my well-wishes, except the card from Tom which I insisted on sleeping with, and I hadn't had any other clothes brought to me. Now that I knew they were ill-fitting, I was excited at the prospect of even leaving the old clothes from the old me behind and getting entirely new ones. "Where am I going?" I asked as I slipped my shoes on.

 

"You'll see when you get there," he smiled cordially. "We've got somewhere safe for you, where you can be observed at all times."

 

"What about Tom? He's supposed to be back in town today," I worried.

 

Officer Halloran sighed. "We have officers at the airport to escort him to a secure location when he arrives."

 

Satisfied, I left the hospital with him and began my new life.


	14. Chapter 14

My safe house ended up being a suite in a hotel in the next city north. Officer Halloran dropped me off, along with the same officer that had been guarding my hospital room. It was a two-bedroom suite, spacious enough to not get on each others' nerves and included a small kitchenette. We also each had our own bathroom, so as to make the arrangements less awkward than they already were. The first day, I settled in, unpacking what I could from the hospital and got as comfortable as I could. I let my new roommate settle as well, and we both kept to ourselves for most of the day. By evening, we were both willing to step outside of our comfort zones and by the end of the night, we were laughing on the couch as we watched an old episode of Twilight Zone.

The second day, we became even more comfortable with our new roles. I was introduced to my new routine as it would be for the duration of my stay. In the morning, after breakfast, I would have a session with my new therapist. She was assigned to me not only for support for what I had been through, but also with hope that, in working with me, something in my memory might be jarred, that I would find some little bit of information that would blow the whole investigation wide open and lead them easily to Paul. I was doubtful, but I knew that I needed at least someone to help me through my conflicting feelings and help me overcome my trauma. In the afternoon, I would be interviewed as needed, as well as allowed outside for some physical activity, weather permitted. In the case that the weather was bad, the hotel had a full-service gym on the third floor and, should I need to use it, the staff's instructions were to close it off from all other guests. Under other circumstances, I would have felt like a queen. I was to have the evenings all to myself, or, should I want someone to talk to, my guard would be there.

This was our third day there, my new therapist had visited in the morning to work with me personally and I was already exhausted. I decided to and lie down on the bed for a nap, ready to make the thoughts swirling through my mind go away. She had jogged me for details about the attack, about Paul, about everything and I had told her all I knew. My eyes were closed when there was a gentle knock on my door. "Chris would like to know if there's anything he should send for for you," my new companion asked, his voice muffled by the wood.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "You can open the door," I answered as I sat up on the bed. 

The door handle twisted and the door creaked open and he stuck his head in. "Is there anything you need?" Officer Dan Kline was nearing the end of his tenure as an officer. He had graying hair that was slowly disappearing as his hairline receded, something that was usually hidden by his hat, kindly brown eyes and laugh lines. He was the kind of man that would have been a wonderful grandfather, except for the fact that he had never married, never had any kids. Dan had also been trained as a Navy SEAL, Special Ops, was over six feet tall and had muscles enough to put Arnold Schwarzenegger's body-building days to shame. " Chris wants to send someone to procure some supplies for us."

"Well," I contemplated, "I could use a little more variety in my wardrobe..." I held my arms out. "I've been in these for three days and they're starting to get a bit smelly." I had tried my best to keep my clothes clean, washing them in the bathroom sink and hanging them over the shower rod overnight to dry, but it was beginning to get old.

He looked surprised. "You didn't bring anything else?"

I shook my head. "All my clothes are at home and I could care less about ever seeing anything in that house ever again."

Dan pulled a notepad and pen out of his shirt pocket and flipped it open. "Sizes?" he asked. He made notes as I told him. "Do you want casual or formal?"

"Does it look like I have anywhere formal to go?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He laughed, "Good point," then out loud said, "Casual," as he added that to his notes.

"Is there any chance I could get a phone to call out with?" I asked. I hadn't had a chance to call anyone, not Hallie, not my brothers, not even Tom and I was feeling isolated. The phone in the suite had even been disabled as a security precaution, so our only means of communication with the outside world was Dan's own cell phone. "It feels like I'm the one in prison," I huffed.

"I'll talk with Chris," he replied. "We may be able to get a disposable phone for you." I knew he felt for me, that he knew how alone I was. We had discussed it the first night in the suite, how things had been, what had happened and why. He had felt that it was important that I see him as a friend so that I could trust him to protect me if we had any problems, and I did. He made me feel safe.

I went back to sleep, my dreams filled with longing, feelings of being wrapped in Tom's arms. When I woke up, it was to the knock on the suite door and the sound of Dan and Chris' voices in the main room. As I threw the blankets I had gotten wrapped up in off of me, I got cold, so I pulled one from the bed and made my way out. I could tell they had been discussing something serious about me because of the looks they tried to hide when they heard me approach. "Hi, Chris," I waved. "Did you ask Hallie out yet?"

Officer Halloran rolled his eyes at me. "Not until the investigation is done," he said. He was attempting to be jovial, but failing miserably. 

"Lora," Dan said, his face drawn, "Sit down, please."

By the tone in his voice, I knew to do as I was told. I perched on the edge of a large ottoman. "What's going on?" I asked. My heart felt like it as thudding loudly, like I could hear it echo in the room. "Is everything alright?"

Both the officers looked at each other as though they were secretly communicating to each other, daring each other to be the one to break the news. Finally, it was Dan that spoke. "Lora," he began, his voice catching, "I'm afraid we have some bad news for you." I could see sympathy in his eyes and it was sympathy I wasn't sure I wanted. All I could do was nod for him to continue. "It seems that Tom didn't arrive when we anticipated. The officers we sent to greet him never came into contact with him, he hasn't arrived at the film set and we have no idea where his is right now."

I gulped. "He... could be in... t..t..trouble?" I stuttered, trying to wrap my head around what he was telling me.

"We have people looking for him," Chris interjected. "He was seen at the hospital you were at, but no one has seen him since then."

"So, he didn't get abducted at the airport." I let out a long breath. "Have you tried his cell phone?"

"There was no answer," Dan said. "Even his publicist can't get ahold of him." 

"What about Hallie?" I gasped, all my breath having escaped my chest. "Is she alright?"

Officer Halloran nodded as he dug into a plastic shopping bag that was sitting at his feet, his hands emerging with a small box. "I brought you a phone and cloned it to your old number," he explained as he handed it to me. "I'm hopeful that perhaps Tom may answer for you and it might be useful if Paul tries to call you." I took the box from him and opened it to reveal a simple smart-phone. "It's basic calls and text only," he continued, "No internet and everything will be monitored."

"I don't need internet," I sighed. To be honest, I had forgotten the initial reason for Chris' visit, consumed as I was with the turn of events. I turned the phone on with the button on the side and watched the screen spring to life. It had a plain purple background, which was so inconsequential that it made me miss the goofy selfie of Tom and I that I'd used as the wallpaper on my old phone, the phone that Paul had destroyed. It made my heart ache for Tom. By that time, I'd had time enough to myself that I no longer needed the scrap of paper that Hallie had written on, I had memorized his phone number. Each and every digit swam in my head as I pressed the on-screen buttons.

Tentatively, I held the phone up to my ear, listening for the rings and then, when they came, listening for his smooth voice. It rang twice and then went to voice mail. Dejected, I mouthed "voice mail" at the officers. They nodded, indicating for me to leave a message. "Tom, it's Lora," I said. "I hope you are alright. Officer Halloran says you are missing and I really don't want to lose you this way. Please, call me. I know you have my number. Just let me know you're alright." After I hung up, I told the officers, "It rang twice, so, whoever had the phone rejected my call." I was on the verge of tears. "Please tell me you'll find him."

"We'll do everything we can," Chris answered. "I have my best colleague on the case." Dan cleared his throat and Chris added, "Other than this guy, right here."

Dan stood from his seat on the sofa and sat down next to me, putting his arm around me. "It'll be alright, kid," he said, trying to reassure me. "We'll find him."

I leaned into Dan's arm and sobbed, every emotion from the last couple of days coming to a head, and felt him pat me on the back. "I can't lose him right now, I just can't," I cried.

There was a noise that startled us all as both officers coddled me. The cell phone, my new one, buzzing on the coffee table where I had left it on vibrate. I waited for Chris to pick it up, which he did, but he didn't answer it. Instead, he handed it to Dan. "Hello?" Dan answered suspiciously. He sucked in a breath as he listened to whomever was on the other line, nodding his head, then giving his own answer of, "No, she's right here." As he passed the phone to me, he whispered, "It's Tom."

I grasped the phone and held it up to my ear. "Tom?" I felt like my heart would explode, knowing that he was alright, that he'd gotten my message. "Are you okay?"

"Lora," he said hesitantly. "I didn't know you'd gotten out of the hospital..."

"I know," I answered. "I wasn't able to call anyone. The only people who knew I left were the police and the hospital staff."

"I went there," he continued, his voice even but wavering just enough that I knew he was bottling something up. "I went there and, well, I found your letter."

I began to feel dizzy. The letter I had written with no intent to give him was now in his hands. I had forgotten it in my hospital room. "That wasn't supposed to get to you," I replied meekly. "I wrote it as therapy."

He groaned. "Well, you don't just write something like that to someone and expect things to go back to how they were, can you?"

"Tom," I protested, "It's not like that. Really, I..."

He cut me off. "So many times I wanted to tell you, Lora, but I suppose it makes no matter right now."

"What?" I hoped I knew what was coming, but was also afraid of it.

"I was falling in love with you," he finally said, forcing the words out with a gust of his breath, as though they's lain heavy on his chest for some time. "I am in love with you."

"I love you, too," I responded quietly, hoping that I was loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled. "Well, according to this, you don't. Listen, I don't want to be the man you're just fooling yourself with. You asked that I understand and I do. I understand that you don't know what you want and I can appreciate that, but I can only be your friend while you do that because..." he paused a moment and drew another deep breath, "If you decide I'm not the one you want, I'll be devastated." His fine veneer of control began to crumble, his voice tinged with the sound of muffled tears. "If we're only friends, I can't lose you, right?"

"Tom, I..." I struggled to get the words out, my own tears flooding out once again. "Tom..."

"Goodbye, Lora," he interrupted. "I'll be here when you need me." With that, he hung up his line.


	15. Chapter 15

I was numb, operating at a level reserved only for the slowest zombies in the movies as I moved around the suite. Dan had done his best in procuring all matter of entertainment for me, from books to board games to an extensive collection of dvds. None of it held my interest for long and, after a few minutes occupied, I would once again become listless and shuffling around, lost inside my own mind.

My daily visits with my therapist helped some, but mostly only with assisting me recoup from the devastation that was Paul. She'd tried explaining that the fallout with Tom was a result of that; my relationship with him was merely a form of a displacement, that I had pursued a dangerous game that caused the inevitable result, which was the end of my marriage. My endgame and Tom merely the unwitting pawn. I didn't buy any of it.

There was a part of me that was happy that Tom didn't stick around to see the mess I was becoming, another part wanted to blame him for causing the mess. Mostly, I felt empty. I was a husk. Eventually, I expected to dry up, crumble and be whisked away on the next strong breeze. 

Hallie had called a couple times and we talked. She'd let me know what was happening in her life, that, even though Chris was unable to take her on an actual date, he had brought flowers when he questioned her. I was happy they were both willing to put in some work to make it happen. She also told me about other things, what her mom, who was like a second mother to me, was doing. Through all our conversations, we avoided the subjects of both Paul and Tom. They were verboten, relegated to the peripherals. We were close, but nowhere near as close as we had been before. Slowly, I felt her fading from my life, and perhaps it would be for the best.

Tom, himself didn't call. I would receive an errant text message and send one back, but I never heard from him personally. I knew he was still dealing with the after effects as well as working. There was no time off, he was a busy man. These were all the things I told myself about him to help ease the pain of losing my entire world, of having the rug pulled out from under my feet and getting flipped upside down, but, reality was that I felt forgotten. I was forgotten by everyone and everything that meant something to me, with the exception of my wayward brothers, and it hurt. I told him as much in one of my texts back and then I didn't hear from him until days later, the reply being a simple, "I haven't forgotten you."

The knife dug in deeper when, watching television one night, I happened to flip to the red carpet of an awards show and there was Tom, dashing as ever in a tuxedo, his ruddy hair cropped shorter than it had been when I'd known him, slight scruff of a beard, bright blue eyes and gleaming smile for the cameras, his arm draped protectively around the waist of a leggy brunette. All the time I'd been kept in seclusion, I'd had time to imagine that he was there with me, that he was waiting for me, that, once the whole matter was settled, I could tell him I loved him, it would be real. But I was living in a fantasy world. They say all the world's a stage, and here, front and center, was my heartache, on display for everyone, slowly killing me as much as Paul had wanted to, and no one even batted an eye at it. 

I felt like my entire support system was gone and I was shattered. I managed to send him a text before I started sobbing too hard, "Saw U on TV. Who's the looker?" "Co-Star," was his response. But I knew that stance. I knew better and the realization that he was moving on without me stung. My heart felt like it had been ripped in two and stomped on and I was helpless, defenseless. 

Throughout this, Dan was my rock. Yeah, he was paid to be there, but he treated me like a real person, like I actually counted. On my more emotional therapy days, he was the one that had a bowl of ice cream ready for me, extra hot fudge, extra whip cream, extra maraschino cherries. After the final call with Tom, he had been the one to let me cry on his shoulder the entire night, passing no judgment, only listening and comforting. And the night of the ceremony, he had been able to procure some alcohol and mixed me a drink, allowing me to pour my heart and soul out o him until I had nothing left. He was becoming my one friend in the entire world and, though I was loathe to foist that upon him, it was a task he took to gracefully. 

I had asked him why he'd never had a wife or had any children and he responded only with the explanation that he'd had a higher calling, that he was meant to take care of people and protect them and that, if he'd had to worry about a family, that purpose would have been diminished by the fear that, at any moment, they would be lost by circumstances beyond their control. It was a plausible explanation and I didn't bother digging any further, even though I felt like there was more to his story. 

By the end of our second month, Dan had gotten clearance to escort me to Children's Hospital so I could visit with someone other than himself. Paul still had not been found, but there had been no sightings of him either. We would be transported under utmost secrecy, but I didn't care what means were used to get me there. I was elated at the prospect of some good, human interaction. I looked forward to being able to see Joey. My therapist supported the visit as well, given how I had been moping around the suite and complaining about my circumstances, she felt it beneficial to visit people in worse situations than I was with better outlooks on life.

The morning of our visit, Dan and I were visited by a make up artist from the local theatre. He created our characters, mine a princess, Dan an Ogre, complete with costumes and prosthetics in a little more than two hours. We were taken to the hospital by way of a small car with darkly tinted windows, which I found out later was a car that was usually reserved for visiting foreign diplomats. There was no fanfare, instead our car was driven to the loading dock and we were escorted in by members of the hospital's security team. "I feel like a rock star," Dan quipped, his voice muffled by the latex over it.

We were ushered into the elevator and came out on the second floor, Joey's floor. One of the nurses commented, "Wow, it's like a regular show of fun today?"

"What do you mean?" Dan asked, concerned that maybe he was jeopardizing my life.

She chuckled, "Oh, we've got a few other people in character in one of the other wards today. There's some clowns and a pirate," she hesitated as she thought. "Oh, yes, we seemed to have had a celebrity in our midst." She reached behind her station and pulled out a small point-and-shoot camera, flipping it on and turning it so we could see the photo on the screen. "This guy was here, I forget what his name is, but the younger nurses all wanted to meet him." It was Tom, dressed as Loki. My heart dropped and my mouth was dry. I shot a wayward glance at Dan.

He leaned close to me and whispered, "You're going to be just fine, Lora."

Except I was sure I wasn't. My mouth was dry, my entire body had gone cold. I couldn't breathe. I was on the verge of excusing myself to the restroom and letting my tears ruin all my lovely make-up when I felt a tug on my dress. "See, you are a princess!" came a familiar, yet weaker voice.

I looked down at the expectant face gazing up at me and it instantly made me forget that my heart was broken. "Joey!" I squealed. "How are you?"

His little face was thinner than I'd remembered it and, as I reached down to pick him up, he felt lighter than I'd remembered. "They say I'm getting better," he smiled. I was happier than I'd been in weeks, just with that news. "And, you know what?"

"What?" I was rooting for everything to be ok for him.

"I get to go home, soon!" His smile grew into the biggest grin and took over his entire face.

I gave him a hug. "That's wonderful, Joey!"

Dan and I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with the kids in the wards, playing with them, posing for photos, making things and I found that my therapist was right. Spending that time with them was recuperative for me. They were my shining stars, their little beacons of light pulling me from the darkness of my own soul. All at once, I found myself thankful for what I had, even for what I'd lost, because I wasn't sure these kids would ever experience that in their lifetimes. Everything was put in perspective. For the first time in weeks, I went to bed and slept well, after that.


	16. Chapter 16

It's amazing how your life can flip upside down in a matter of minutes. I woke up in my bed in the suite feeling that, after nearly four months of captivity, something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun steamed through the window, something in that golden tone that warmed my spirits, or perhaps it was just the general mood that effected me. I wasn't sure as I climbed out, wrapped my robe around me and padded into the main room.

Dan was sitting on the ottoman, elbows leaned on his knees, face in serious thought. He looked up as I came in. "Sit down," he instructed, nodding at the chair that was opposite him.

"Why so grim?" I asked as I made myself comfortable.

He took a deep breath, looking like he was uncertain as to exactly how he wanted to address me. Finally, he reached across and grabbed one of the hands I had sitting on my knee. "Lora, they've found Paul."

I gasped, feeling like I had just been punched in the gut. "Where?" I managed to squeeze out.

"Well," he replied, "Some hunters found him out in the backwoods off of Mount Gray. He had busted into their cabin, found a hunting rifle and... Well..."

"He's dead, isn't he?" I asked. Dan nodded and I straddled the line between anger and elation. I wanted to scream because he took away the one thing that held my spirits up, the closure I sought in seeing his ass thrown in prison. On the other hand, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me. My own incarceration was over. The more I began to think about it, though, the more frightened I became. The suite had become a welcome haven where I didn't have to deal with anything in the outside world unless I wanted to. I felt protected even though I had been stifled and now, faced with the freedom I had so desperately desired, I now felt vulnerable. Covering my face with my hands, I groaned, "I can't go back home." The thought of my house made me shudder and I wanted nothing more to be done with it. Paul and I had life insurance policies, but his suicide negated his, leaving me with only a meager savings and my wages. "I couldn't afford to keep it if I wanted to." 

Dan reached over and patted my knee. "I know it's not much, but I have a basement apartment that I was thinking about renting out," he said. "It needs a little TLC, but it's yours if you want it." 

Peeking at him through my fingers, I nodded. "Sure, the department's not going to have a problem with it, will they?"

He laughed, "As of that phone call, I am officially off the case."

We spent the rest of the morning showering, getting dressed and packing. Our only breakfast was a dozen doughnuts Dan had had delivered and some murky coffee we had concocted in the kitchenette. It took us about two hours to get ready, mostly because I insisted on leaving it nearly as clean as it had been when we had arrived. I took one last look around as I closed the door, pulling my single suitcase behind me. The suite had been home for almost four months and I realized I would miss it for all its blandness. 

Our first stop after leaving the suite and driving back to the city was to the precinct to return my cell phone and for Dan to finish filling out and turn in his paperwork. I debated whether I needed to take the sim card with me, since I didn't have anywhere to put it, but, in the end, I slid it into my pocket. As we left, we ran into Chris. "I guess you can finally ask Hallie out," I chided.

His reply was a huge grin, followed by, "I intend to."

It was late afternoon by the time we pulled into Dan's driveway. He lived in a nondescript seventies split-level that was painted a pale beige. We got out of the car and he helped me up the front steps with my bag. After he unlocked the door, he directed me to the basement. The door was at the bottom of a half flight of stairs that were carpeted in an astroturf like fabric. "Go ahead," he instructed as I descended. I turned the handle and opened the door to reveal what looked like thinly constructed walls made of particle board and linoleum-lined floors. "It was originally built to be a home gym," he explained. "That's why there's a shower. I added the rest of the bathroom fixtures and the kitchen when I moved in." The kitchen was more a wall of cabinets with a stove, a mini fridge and a microwave built into it, wedged between the wall to the bathroom and what I presumed was the bedroom.

"What color were you planning on painting it?" I asked as I looked around.

Dan shrugged. "Boring old white. I've got a couple cans in the garage."

I nodded as I opened the door to the bedroom. It was barely large enough for a queen sized bed, not that I needed one that large. "Thanks for this, Dan," I sighed. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"No problem," he replied as he hugged me, "That's what friends are for."

The apartment was not furnished and I didn't want to haul anything from my house, so I borrowed and air mattress and some blankets from Dan for the night. I wasn't expected back at work right away and Dan had earned himself a couple days off, so we planned on painting in the next couple days, thinking we could rent a truck to move what I was keeping after it was done. 

There was a box store not far from Dan's, now also mine, house and I walked there after settling in to see if I could find a new phone. Luckily, they had some that were fairly inexpensive. I popped my card in and I was ready. The first call I made was to a local real estate agent, asking her to meet me at my house in three days to inspect it so I could put it on the market. She was the same agent Paul and I had worked with when we bought the house, so I trusted her to make the right decisions. She, of course, understood why I wanted to sell. "I was so sorry to hear," she had said. "I would never had guessed he was like that." I thanked her, figuring that she was saying what most of the people that knew Paul and I were thinking. No one saw him that way. Only Tom recognized the probability.

I called Hallie next. She was excited to hear from me, regaling me with happy stories about Chris and what they planned to do for their first official date. It felt odd that she didn't mention why Chris was suddenly available, until I asked her. "They caught Paul, right?" she replied. When I told her what Dan had related to me, her entire demeanor changed. "I'm so sorry," she said sadly. "Here I am, all running on with my love life and yours is destroyed."

"I'm alright," I answered. "It's not the end for me." I had never told her what happened with Tom. "I'm sure there will be some special person in my future."

"What happened with Tom?" she asked.

I hesitated, trying to decide if I should tell her the whole story. Ultimately, I answered, "I don't want to go into it, but we are still friends." My conversation with Hallie made me wonder even that, though. Aside from an errant text, Tom and I had not even spoken in months. I still ached for him, a sensation that was only exacerbated each time I saw him on television, but I felt like we didn't even know each other anymore. He had rejected me during my most trying time and, because of that, I halfway resented him.

My final call was to Tom. I had to let him know what had happened with Paul at the very least so he wouldn't constantly be concerned for his safety. His number was still burned into my mind as I called, my fingers dialing the numbers from memory. It rang three times before it was picked up. "Hello?" answered a sleepy sounding female voice. My heart sank. I figured he had moved on and this confirmed it. 

"Hi," I tried to be chipper, "Is Tom available?"

She groaned for a moment, then I heard her say, "Hey, it's for you. Some woman." Apparently, she was used to strange women calling him at odd hours.

It took a few seconds before Tom picked up the line. "'Ello?" He sounded just as groggy as his companion.

"I'm sorry," I began. "Were you sleeping? I wasn't sure where you are now."

He yawned. "Yeah, but it's okay. I'm in London. Who's this?"

My heart fell another notch. "It's Lora," I replied, trying not to sound too emotional. 

"Oh, hey, Lora!" He drawled, trying to sound happy to hear from me. 

I decided to rush through what I could, not wanting to make the call any more awkward than it already was. "I just wanted to let you know that you're safe now. Paul is dead." I sucked in a sharp breath, preparing to say goodbye. "I'll let you get back to sleep with..."

"What? He's dead?" he asked, cutting me off. "Oh, Darling." He hadn't called me that for a long time and it saddened me that he used it now, when he so obviously had another darling.

"He killed himself, Tom," I found myself explaining the circumstances of Paul's death, finishing with a tearful, "And, if it weren't for Dan, I'd have nowhere to go." I realized after the fact that Tom had no idea who Dan was.

"Dan?" he mumbled. 

I don't know why I chose that moment to lash out, but I did. "Dan was the one person who was there for me when no one else was," I snipped. 

"Well, I told you, if you needed me, I'd be there," he defended. "It's not my fault you never called."

There was nowhere civil that the conversation could have gone from there. Instead of reasoning with him, I took the lowest blow, asking, "Who's the girl? Did you find her right away or did you wait a few days?"

From the frustrated sigh he emitted, I knew I'd taken aim and hit him. "That's not fair," he responded, his voice low but wavering. "I haven't dated anyone since..." His voice trailed off before he finished, "That's my sister who answered the phone. She's staying the night on my sofa, where my cell phone was, while they fumigate her flat."

I didn't want to hear anymore. The old feelings began coming back. Instead, I changed the subject. "I heard you came by the hospital and visited the kids in full Loki gear," I said.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "They loved it." He paused for a moment. "There was this particular little boy, so much personality, who told me I was a prince. I tried to tell him I was the bad guy, but he wasn't having any of it."

Joey, he had to be talking about Joey. "About seven years old, fire red hair, freckles like crazy?"

"Yep," he confirmed.

I laughed. "That would be Joey. He's my favorite. He's got a rare form of leukemia." Why I was explaining any of this to Tom, I didn't know. Our interaction was becoming uncomfortable in our familiarity and I felt the need to end the conversation. I'd spent the last three months trying not to think of him as anything more than an acquaintance and wasn't about to jeopardize it. "Listen, Tom," I finally said, "I've got to go."


	17. Chapter 17

Dan and I spent the next day decked out in the scrubbiest clothes in his wardrobe, which consisted of a pair of past-their-prime jeans and a holey muscle tee advertising a Vegas casino for him and a pair of already-paint-splattered sweats held up on my smaller frame with plastic zip ties and another casino shirt for me. "You must be quite the high roller," I joked when he brought them out. 

"They pass these things out like candy down there," he grinned. 

I was a little sore from the night spent on Dan's sofa, after having had the air mattress I borrowed spring a leak in the middle of the night and finding myself on the hard floor of my bare basement apartment. As I began painting the walls, I felt a twinge of pain shoot through my shoulders. "Mind If I stick to the lower vicinities?" I asked.

Dan was in rare form. "Well, you'd need a step ladder to get the rest of it," he laughed. "Nah, I've got this. Piece of cake."

By Mid-day, we had gotten the apartment painted, for all intents and purposes. At least there were no bare walls anymore, no specks of the fiberboard they'd been constructed with peeking through. "What say we clean this up after lunch?" I asked as I surveyed the massive amounts of newspaper swathing the floor, dotted with blops of white paint and the occasional footprint from where we had stepped in it.

"Sounds like a plan," Dan answered as he took a swig from the water bottle he had brought down. 

We didn't want to sit on the floor and we were too messy, having gotten into a paint fight about halfway through the job, that we ambled outside while Dan ordered a pizza. "I'm so tired already!" I exclaimed as I flopped down on the front lawn, lying back and closing my eyes.

Dan sat down next to me after he hung up with the pizzaria. "Lora," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone, "I know this has been a tough time for you..." 

"Yeah," I opened my eyes and shielded them from the sun with my hand as I looked up at him.

"Well," he continued, "I keep wondering where the rest of your friends and family are. Why are you so alone?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, my brothers both live out of state and Hallie and I have grown apart, you know this, even though she's got Chris now and the wedge that came between us is no longer in my life..."

"Tom?" he interjected. I nodded. "I apologize in advance, but I heard your call to him last night." He saw the pained look that passed over my face and gently patted my shoulder. "Now, I'm not your therapist, but anyone can tell you're in love with him."

"But, I'm not," I shook my head. "I mean, I was. Head over heels even. Tom and I are the reason Paul went totally off the rails. He thought we were having an affair."

"Were you?" Dan's tone was less accusatory and more curious.

"No," I replied wistfully. "We kissed a couple times and, not that I didn't entertain the thought, but I couldn't put Paul through that after he had put me through it."

"So, you and Tom..."

"Decided to be friends," I sighed, "But obviously, we can't even be that." I sat up and crossed my legs, leaning my elbows on my knees. "Last night was the first time I've actually talked to him since I got out of the hospital."

"How did it feel to talk after all that time?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'd like to say it was wonderful, but it got awkward really fast." I hoped that would be the end of our conversation about Tom, but Dan was obviously waiting for more of an explanation. "We started talking about dating and it almost got nasty."

"Just do me a favor?" he said, his eyes fixed on me. "Keep those lines of communication open. I hate to see you hurting like this when it's so needless."

"Thanks, Mom," I returned, pursing my lips.

The pizza came and, after eating lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up and carrying on lighthearted banter. There was no more talk of Tom. What had been said was enough and we both knew it. Instead, we stuck with innocuous subjects like work and the weather and ended up planning a visit to my house to get some furniture. "I don't want you stealing my sofa," Dan joked.

By evening everything was cleaned up and we both had showered and changed clothes; my clean outfit another pair of Dan's sweats and a t-shirt advertising the police department. I was settled back in Dan's living room, his sofa pulled out into a bed this time because we'd had enough time to get it set up. The television droned as Dan sat in a club chair and watched it, half amused with whatever was on it. I had pulled a book from his bookshelf and was concentrating on reading when my cell phone rang. I picked it up from the end table and looked at it, my mind immediately sounding an alarm as Tom's number flashed on the screen. I considered not answering it, letting it go to voicemail, when I glanced at Dan. He had heard the gasp I'd emitted and was glaring at me. "I know that's Tom and you better answer that call or I'll kick your ass," he threatened.

Taking a deep breath and puffing out my cheeks, I answered the phone. "Hi, Tom," I said flatly.

"I'll just go in the other room," Dan said as he stood up and stretched.

"Who was that?" Tom asked, taken aback. "I thought you were living by yourself, now."

"Sort of. That was Dan," I explained. "I am currently camping on his sofa until we get a chance to get to my house and get furniture, then I'm renting his basement." I yawned. "I'm not relishing the task." Looking at the clock, I realized how late it must be for him. "Why are you calling me in the middle of your night? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Actually," he chuckled, "It's not all that late. I'm in New York now."

I began to feel a bit lightheaded. It was different when he was on another continent, but he was only mere hours away. "What for?" I managed to ask. 

"I've got a meeting for a possible new role," he replied. "If I take this one, I'll be filming near you, again." His voice was filled with optimism. "I'd like to see you, if you're free."

"Tom..." I stuttered. I wanted to jump for joy and recreate the backflips my heart was already doing, but I didn't. I couldn't. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Now he sounded hurt.

I had no reason, so I paused, trying desperately to think of one. Finally, I sighed, "It's just not. I don't know when I'm going to be available. I've got to go back to work soon, I haven't even moved in, I'm selling my house..."

"You're selling your house?" His interest piqued again.

"I can't go back there and live," I explained. "Too many bad memories are tied up in that place and I can't even afford to keep it." With a shudder, I added, "I don't even know how I'm going to handle going back tomorrow to collect my things."

Tom let out a soft grumble. "You know, it's just a place," he said softly. "You could always make new memories."

"It's already listed," I scoffed. "Besides, Paul's life insurance excluded suicide." 

"How are you paying for the funeral?" I had to hand it to him, that he sounded concerned, even though the topic of conversation was now my psycho late husband.

"I have no idea," I sighed. "For all I care, the state can take custody of his remains and bury him in a potter's field. I really want nothing else to do with him."

There was the sound of him shuffling something and then a thud. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Ummmm... Listen, Lora, I know I wasn't there when you needed me." He took a deep breath and stalled, I guessed so he could gather his thoughts a little better. I had a vision of him rolling his eyes up into his head as he often did when he was deep in thought. "I know I can't make up for abandoning you when everything happened, but I'd like to help you. Let me pay for Paul's burial."

I was stunned. "You don't have to do that," I protested. "Dan's already told me how to sign him over to the state..."

"Don't you need that closure?" Damn him, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears again.

"Bastard stole that when he killed himself," I groaned. "I wanted to see that asshole thrown in prison." Now, I was getting emotional, my voice beginning to waver. "I don't want to say goodbye. I've worked on letting go of everything for the last three months."

"Letting go of what?" 

"Of Paul," I railed, "Of what he did to me, my whole life..."

He sighed, "Of me?"

His comment shot right through the phone and into my heart as it dropped. For all my anger that had built up, everything plummeted to this low point. "No," I answered, sure my voice was no more than a squeak. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I waited to hear him say something, anything.

"Lora," his voice shook. "I'm glad."

By then, I was crying, tears, nose running, full-on sobs. "Tom..." was all I could say.

"I'll let you go, Darling," he said softly, understanding that I was unable to say anything else.

Dan returned to the living room after he heard me stop talking. I was lying on the pull-out, holding the phone on my chest, the tears wracking my body. "I thought you could use some ice cream," he said as he sat down next to me and set the bowl he was holding on the side table. 

"You were right," I cried, "I am still in love with him." Sitting up, I looked at him with my big, weepy eyes. "And you're gonna make me fat."

He laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a bear hug. "Now, my dear, you just have to tell him that."


	18. Chapter 18

I woke up early the next morning, but not by choice. My alarm clock consisted of Dan letting out a snore so loud that it rattled the entire house. We had stayed up late, eating ice cream, drinking the only alcohol he had in the house, which happened to be an old bottle of not-very-well-aged scotch and playing silly board games. While I had passed out on the pull-out, Dan had scrunched his entire six foot frame into an easy chair and had covered himself in the smallest blanket possible. His snore happened to wake both of us up. "Ugh," I groaned as I fought to open my eyes. "Dan, you woke me up. What time is it?"

Dan fumbled with something, nearly falling out of his chair with a, "Whoa," before he answered. "Eight. It's eight."

"Can I sleep a little longer?" I pleaded. I wasn't really comfortable where I was, but my head hurt and I was loathe to move. "I can't believe we did that."

"Sorry, Lora," he grumbled. "We need to pick up the U-Haul at nine." I heard him stand up and stretch. "I'll tell you what, we both take showers, wake up a little more, and I'll spring for breakfast."

The thought of food made me feel even worse. "I don't even know if I can eat," I yawned as I sat up. 

I looked up at Dan and he was standing, hands akimbo, grinning at me. "I need to introduce you to the wonders of Pho."

"What's that?" I was hoping that I wasn't up for one of Dan's infamous weird foods. He had described some pretty strange concoctions during our time spent in the suite.

As he helped me up, he replied, "Relax, it's Vietnamese beef noodle soup. Best hangover remedy there is."

Rolling my eyes at him, I scoffed, "According to whom?"

"Tony Bourdain," he laughed. When I looked confused, he added, "Super chef? Travels around and eats all sorts of different foods?" I shook my head. "Fine, then," he huffed, "I've tried it and I say it works."

I really shouldn't have made him work so hard to give me an answer, but it had become a little game of ours, not letting on who or what we were talking about until the other became flustered. "If you say it works, I'll try it," I acquiesced. As I walked away and down towards my shower, I added, "And I know who Tony Bourdain is!"

By the time I had gotten to my door, I heard him yell, "Tease!"

We both showered, not because we needed to, hell, we were going to get dirty and sweaty moving stuff anyway, but because we needed to wake up. I lingered in the hot water as long as I could, until it began to get cold, then dried off and put on the same clothes I'd been wearing. My keys were in my purse and I grabbed that as I exited my apartment to meet Dan by the front door. He could tell I was apprehensive by the way I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, the crease above my nose as I scrunched my eyebrows in, my general demeanor. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked me as we left.

I nodded apprehensively. "As okay as I can get," I answered quietly. "It's gotta be done sometime. Now's as good of time as any."

"Well, you don't need to hurry it." We got into his car and buckled ourselves in.

As Dan pulled out of the driveway, I reasoned, "I've had over three months to deal with doing this. If I can't take it now, then what has my therapist been doing all this time?" Sure, I was talking the talk, but I was beginning to doubt whether I could walk the walk. As we drove to the droning voice of Dan's GPS, I couldn't help but think of just how little I'd had invested in my house. Sure, there was a lot of money involved, but emotionally, I was practically bereft. I imagined that everything I cared for in the house would fit into a plastic grocery store bag, with room to spare. And yet, here I was about to rummage through the tattered remains of a life that I was desperate to leave behind only because it meant my comfort in my new life.

After the Pho, which I had to concede was a wonderful hangover remedy, we pulled into the U-Haul place and I waited in the car while Dan checked in and paid for the box truck that was going to be, hopefully, full of my belongings, except I wasn't thinking of them as MY belongings. With Paul, they had been OUR belongings and HIS belongings, but never mine. Now, the legacy of it had fallen on my shoulders. Luckily, Dan had the wherewithal to realize that there would be a majority of things that I either couldn't deal with or didn't want to, like Paul's things, and he had volunteered to take care of whatever I couldn't face. He had also called to arrange a pick-up at the end of the day by a charity. We were to leave whatever I didn't want on the front lawn and they would take it. And, as for the trash, he had also hired a dumpster, which was supposed to have been delivered that morning and be sitting in my driveway. Dan had thought of everything.

He strode over to the car and knocked on my window. I rolled it down. "What?"

"I was thinking," he sighed, "We may need a bit more room than this truck..."

"I'm not packing the whole house," I interrupted.

Dan cleared his throat. "I was thinking," he repeated more forcefully, "That you should drive my car to your house and I will follow you in the truck."

Nodding, I couldn't help but agree. "Alright," I replied, "But if I dent this boat, I will not be held responsible."

"Fair deal," he grinned as he handed me his keys.

I slid into the drivers' seat, fastened my seat belt, adjusted everything how I needed it and turned the car on in the time I took Dan to do the same in the box truck and pull it up behind me. He nodded as I caught a glimpse of him in my rear view mirror and then we were off. It felt surreal navigating the streets on my own after an absence from them for so many months, especially to be driving to somewhere I had once known so well and now felt like I was driving to a stranger's house. The route was familiar, ingrained in my mind, and I got us there easily, but, I couldn't help but think as we pulled up in front of my house how different it looked to me than it had in my memory.

Dan got out of the truck and approached my window. I tried to ignore him when he tapped on it, but he was persistent. Finally, I unrolled the window. "I feel like I don't want to leave the car," I groaned.

He crossed his arms. "It's too late to change your mind."

I leaned my head back against the car seat. "I know." 

Dan unlocked the door and pulled me from it, reminding me to grab my purse and my keys, before shoving me gently in the direction of the front door. I unlocked it, my hand shaking as I turned the key, so much so that I couldn't get it to work. "Let me," he said quietly, placing his hand over mine. I pulled my hand back and let him, silently fearing what we would find when we went in. As he opened the door, I closed my eyes, waiting for another nudge to the back. "It's alright, I'm here," he encouraged.

"Thanks for being such a good friend," I whispered as I stepped over the threshold. My feet shuffled forward and I opened my eyes to survey the damage. The living room looked the way it always did, put together, picked up, artwork that Paul had insisted upon gracing the wall over the television, photos of the two of us, mostly candid, in small frames scattered on the mantel of the fireplace and along the bookshelves. There were a few tchotckes, not many because Paul had said they were cheap and cluttered when I felt they made the place homey. He had conceded on only a few. The only things different were the obvious absence of the sofa and the bloodstains that were splattered along the grey carpet. I took a deep breath, not realizing I had been holding it. The house smelled musty, dusty like an old attic, not at all like I remembered.

Dan came to my side and put his arm around me. "They took the sofa as evidence," he explained. "You wouldn't want it anymore, anyway. It was bad-off."

I nodded. "I guess we'll just start in this room." I pulled a trash bag from the box Dan had brought and began to throw the photos in them, not caring if the glass broke. The sound of shattering was cathartic and I didn't even realize how hard I was crying and cursing as I purged them. The bag was filled before long and I handed it to him, instructing, "Dumpster." He only nodded solemnly before taking it from me and going outside to dispose of it. This was a ritual that would be repeated many times over before we were done for the day and Dan had the patience of a saint for allowing me the closure he did. 

There was very little I kept from the living room, my books, the shelves, the television and the table it sat on, a love seat that never saw a day of love, all boxed up with the boxes that had been purchased at U-Haul and packed into the truck before we moved on to the kitchen. I kept more from the kitchen, probably because it had ended up being my haven. We packed up all the dishes, everything I had picked out, except the wedding china, which had been a present from Paul's aunt. "Do you want me to pack it up for the charity?" Dan asked.

I shook my head. "No, I have plans for that." It was left on the counter until I decided to use them.

Our next stop was the guest room. There wasn't much to the room and all I decided to keep was the double bed and the small bureau from it, hoping they would be able to fit in my tiny basement apartment. Dan and I hauled the rest out to the front lawn.

My final stop was the master suite upstairs. I chose to go through it myself, asking Dan to take care of the man cave as I didn't even want to deal with all of Paul's personal belongings he'd kept hidden from the world. Apprehensively, I opened the bedroom door after Dan had disappeared. It felt like walking into a vacuum, the pressure released and all the memories came rushing out at me. As I moved slowly into the room, it felt like I was weighed down by the pressure, pressure of going through my life, the pressure of knowing that this was to be my final time in this phase of my life. It nearly became too much and I could do nothing but lie down on my bed, encompassed in the familiar smells, albeit dustier than I was accustomed to. After finding the comfort of my own bed came the tears, hot, wet, soaking my pillows, lulling me to sleep despite my protestations.

I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but when I awoke, it was to the dusky light of sunset pouring through the windows and the sound of Dan's voice booming through the house. Startled, I tried to make out what he was saying, knowing that if he were truly yelling, I would be able to discern his words easily. Standing up, I found that I was cold, my skin peppered with goosebumps, and I pulled the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around me like a cape as I made my way back downstairs. As I got closer, I made out Dan's voice as he said, "She's not in right spirits today."

A voice echoed against his. "Is it alright?" And I froze. I could have sworn it was Tom's voice. Slowly, I tiptoed into the hallway, stopping just shy of the kitchen, where both Dan and Tom were leaning against the counter with beers in their hands. I thought I was hidden from their view until Tom glanced over in my direction, drawn perhaps by the near silent gasp I had tried to stifle, and a smile spread over his face. "Lora," he mouthed.

I nodded, my feet unable to move, my eyes glued to him. "Hi, Tom," I said. My mind was a blur. I couldn't even fathom that he was here, in my house, or what used to be my house, again until he approached, wrapped his arms around me and kissed the side of my head while taking a deep breath, inhaling me. It felt like heaven. "God I missed that," I gushed as he loosened his pull on me.

"So did I," he purred.


	19. Chapter 19

I'd like to say I spent the rest of the day in Tom's arms, but I'd be lying. There was still so much to do, so many tasks that needed tackling, including the daunting job of going through the contents of my room. I wasn't relishing going back in there. "How are you coming on that room?" Dan asked.

Scowling at him, I groaned, "I didn't think it would be this difficult."

"It's got to be done," he admonished with a sympathetic look. "Would you like me to help?" 

I shook my head at him, but Tom leaned in and mumbled, "I'd like to help." He grasped my hand and squeezed it as I nodded my head. Why I reasoned that Tom could help me when Dan, my closest friend, couldn't, I don't know. I think it may have been that Tom just offered a level of closeness and comfort I craved and knew would be impossible with Dan. While Dan and I had that familiarity and friendship, he was, essentially, my brother. He knew me when I was at my most broken, but I felt uneasy revealing my pre-broken self, someone Tom had seen, had known. 

Clutching Tom's hand, I led him up the stairs and opened the bedroom door. "Where would you like to begin?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room, it's muted plum fabrics, it's cold gray walls decorated only with a single painting, a knock off of Monet's "Waterlilies," hung over the headboard. I could see him taking inventory of what he'd discerned to be my belongings and what had belonged to Paul.

"The closet," I instructed, moving towards the set of double doors on the opposite wall from the bed. "We can put Paul's things in the trash bags and out into the charity pile." 

To me, my voice sounded oddly calm, perhaps on the cool side. To Tom, I must have sounded emotional, because he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back into him. "You don't have to do this part," he said softly. "I'll take care of Paul's things, you concentrate on your own."

"Alright," I nodded. With a single sweep, I pulled my clothes from the hangers and carried them to the bed, intending on sorting through them. I wanted to get rid of anything and everything Paul had given me and that's where it started. The clothing I kept was packed in yet another labeled box, the discarded items suffering the same fate as Paul's belongings. 

The task was going well until I came across the one item I'd forgotten was hanging in the closet. Sandwiched between two formal dresses I'd hidden my wedding dress. I began to retch at the sight of it. There were no longer any happy memories associated with it. Tom heard the sounds I made and hurried out of the closet. He sat down next to me and rubbed my back gently, instinctually understanding what I needed. "Shhh," he coddled, "Just tell me what I need to do."

"Get rid of it," I managed to say. As soon as my stomach settled, I felt the tears well up again, but I tried to stifle them. They came anyways, hot streams running down my cheeks. I couldn't watch as Tom kissed the top of my head and removed the offending garment. I had no idea what he'd planned to do with it and I didn't care. It needed to be gone. With a final squeak of my resolve, I said, "Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't donate any wedding attire. I don't wish that luck on an unsuspecting soul." In my mind, both my dress and Paul's tux were tainted, cursed.

Tom was silent for a moment and I heard the distinctive crinkle of the trash bag he was going through. "Alright," he sighed, "I'll take these downstairs, then." He left the room and I could hear the sound of his feet as he quickly descended the stairs, followed by the thumps of him returning.

When he got back, I had finished with my pile on the bed and had busied myself with the contents of my bureau. "If you're done with the closet, there's Paul's drawers to go through," I said.

Tom made his way next to me, his hand holding an empty trash bag, and yanked open the drawer next to the one I was rummaging through. "This one?" he asked. I avoided his eyes and nodded. With a shrug he began pulling out handfuls of socks and boxers and shoving them angrily into the bag.

This time, I was overwhelmed by the smell, the scent of Paul's cologne. Feeling the bile rise in my belly once again, I held back the urge to vomit and ran for the bathroom, letting it all out in a torrent of emotion. I didn't expect that sort of violent reaction and, when it was over, I felt as empty as ever, like I had purged everything, every emotion I felt. 

Tom waited until he heard me flush, then appeared at the door. "I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands out to me. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, now," I replied as I sat on the floor and leaned my head back against the wall. 

He knelt down next to me. "But, I do." He raised one hand and ran it through his hair apprehensively. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me the most." He wrapped his arms around me and helped me to my feet. "And I'm sorry I didn't press you to leave him when I glimpsed the violence he was capable of."

I shook my head. "You didn't know."

"That's what I told myself," he sighed. "That I wasn't close enough to the situation to know..."

"Nobody was, not even Hallie," I interjected.

"But I saw the fear in your eyes that night." He held me, held my gaze. "I should have done something."

The conversation was emotional and as much as I wanted to stay on an even keel, my feelings got the best of me, welling up in my gut and spewing just as completely as my revulsion had earlier. I pushed him away from me as much as I could in the small space. "Well, you didn't," I screamed. "Nobody did. It was me and me alone that suffered that asshole!" 

He attempted to hold me to him, but I ducked under his arm and stomped into the bedroom. "Lora," I heard him call after me. 

I didn't want to listen. Flopping down on the bed and burying my face in the cold wetness of my tear-drenched pillow, I screamed at the top of my lungs. All of the hurt, all of the aggression that my therapist had warned me about was finally boiling to the surface and Tom had proved to be the unwitting catalyst.

Remaining there for who knows how long, I became acutely aware of being alone. Tom hadn't followed me. Frightened that I had finally scared him away, I sat up. He hadn't left me. Instead, he was standing at the end of the bed watching me, waiting for me, his eyes not showing the hurt I'd expected or even confusion. There was only tenderness. I jumped from the bed and ran to him. "You're still here," I gushed as I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled his chest.

"Lora," he whispered, "I made the mistake of leaving you once, I'll never leave you again."

His words filled me with one thing I never thought I'd feel again: hope. "Why me?" I asked as I looked up at him. "I'm broken."

"Because," he smiled. "I'm in love with you, broken or not. Besides, you're strong and beautiful, smart and sexy. What more can a man ask for?" He brushed his hand softly against my cheek as he leaned down and kissed me, deeply, deeper than he'd ever kissed me before, or perhaps it just seemed so because it had been months in the making.

"I love you, too," I managed to say as we caught our breaths. "Thank you for loving me."

Tom chuckled. "How about you take care of what you want and Dan and I will pack up the rest of this?" he suggested.

"Okay," I agreed. 

Tom helped me pack up what I was keeping of my clothing, which ended up being another two boxes, before we took a break for lunch, pizza that Dan had so graciously ordered while we were upstairs. After we ate, the three of us tackled what was left. I was relegated to sitting on the armchair in the corner while Tom distracted me by holding other things up and asking what to keep while Dan worked to rid the room of everything else. When all the small items were done, the men hassled hauled everything out to the charity pile.

The room felt strangely impersonal, it's cave - like emptiness yawing with memories better forgotten. As I stood there taking it all in, Tom came up behind me. "Everything's loaded," he announced, "except that stack of China in the kitchen. Dan said you were saving it?"

I turned around. "Yes," I answered. I led him downstairs and instructed each of them to pick up a few and follow me to the patio. Once outside, I began throwing my China against the cement, a wicked grin on my face as I did it. Tom and Dan were uncertain at first, but picked up the mission quickly, participating by handing me items from their own stacks as I continued to smash. It was cathartic, this destruction. The sounds of the China shattering as I hurled it hither and yon were freeing. This was the closure I needed.

When I was done and the dust had settled, I took a deep breath and said, "I'm ready to go home, now."

"What about the mess?" Tom asked, amused.

Dan shrugged. "Cleaning service will take care of it."

My last act as we stood near the truck and Dan's car was to turn around and take in what would be the last look of my house. And now, it was just a house.


	20. Chapter 20

It was near dark by the time we got back to our house, got everything unloaded and the truck returned to U Haul. Dinner was another rushed take-out meal, this time Chinese food that we ate while sitting in Dan's living room. I knew I was exhausted, but I wasn't nearly as tired as Dan or Tom because, shortly after finishing our meal, Dan excused himself to go to bed. "You're welcome to stay up here tonight," he yawned as he left the room. "I don't expect you to want to go organize everything down there right now."

Once Tom and I were alone, it gave us time to talk, but I could see the rigors of the day in his eyes as we stuck to mostly mundane subjects. Finally, I sighed, "Tom, I have an admission to make." His eyes perked up and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. "Before. Before all this, when I was with Paul, the only reason I didn't go with you was because I wanted my marriage to work."

"I know," he replied softly. "I could see it in your eyes. I know you loved Paul at one time and you were trying to honor that commitment, right?" His eyes reflected the sadness I felt hearing him repeat things I'd told him. "But you weren't happy."

I shook my head. "No, I wasn't. And I did want you. I've loved you since before I knew you." There was a moment there where I considered kissing him, but then I settled on something I'd longed to do. I laid my head down on his chest and listened to his heart beat.

Tom took a deep breath. "Well," he began, "I have an admission, too." I raised my head, balancing my chin on my hand so I wouldn't hurt his chest and raised my eyebrows at him. "There was no New York. I came straight here and I wanted to see you, but I wasn't sure you'd have me. That was the best ruse I could come up with, or at least the most believable one."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I wasn't hurt, just curious. 

He shrugged. "I was apprehensive. You rebuffed me and I couldn't tell you how I was feeling."

"Is that what you kept trying to tell me by phone?" I smiled.

"Well," he drew out his voice and pulled me up to him, "What I had been trying to tell you is that I couldn't live without you in my life and that I am crazily, deliriously in love with you." He grinned at me and it made me melt. "And I am, Lora. I am in love with you and I've been so since the day we met." 

God, I loved the way he looked at me. "I guess that means I win because I was in love with you, first," I quipped, grinning back at him. 

He replied by coiling me in both his arms and pulling me up so I was lying on my stomach on top of him, then grasping my cheeks and pulling me into a kiss. His lips moved over mine, vast, all - encompassing sweeps before consuming me. I moaned, my feelings for him filling me with a warmth. "I think we both win," he said breathlessly.

"I agree," I sighed. I laid my cheek against his shoulder, happy even just to stay that way, encompassed in him. "I was going to leave him the night he beat me," I mumbled. "I wanted to. I left once and I stayed with Hallie, but he told me he wanted to talk and work things out with me." Tears began to fill me, spilling out of my eyes against the shirt he was wearing. "I wanted to be with you."

Tom took a deep breath. "I wish I'd have known," he said quietly as he let the air from his lungs in one long exhale. "You were right, you know."

"About?" The tone in his voice made me shiver for a moment, like he was about to reveal some bit of information I'd rather not know.

"There was something going on with that costar in London." He let out a groan, almost like he couldn't believe what he was telling me. 

Raising my head again, I waited for him to say more. When he didn't, I asked, "What was her name?"

He groaned again. "Why do you need to know?"

"Morbid curiosity," I answered. "Indulge me."

"Christine," he said flatly. "And before you ask, we saw each other for two weeks and I didn't sleep with her."

I reached over and grabbed his hand, weaving my fingers with his. "She was gorgeous, why not?"

He blinked at me like he couldn't believe my line of questioning. "Yes, she was," he finally replied. "But she wasn't you." He pursed his lips, his eyes searching mine, for what, I don't know, finally letting out a little chortle. "You were the only one I wanted."

Unfortunately, the side effect of my relationship with Paul was that I had self doubt. A lot of it. In droves. "What makes me so special, so lucky that I get to win your heart?"

Tom gazed at me tenderly, then, in a near whisper, replied, "You've got the kindest eyes." He kissed my eyelids softly. "And the softest lips." Another kiss. "And the sexiest body." He kissed my lips again, his hands moving over my hips, gently holding me to him. "And I love that you have such a big heart, that you've got this amazing artistic eye, that you have this sparkling personality with a razor sharp wit, and I love that you snort when you laugh too hard." 

"Are you sure we're not talking about you?" I guffawed. Tom shook his head and kissed me again. This was not a sweet kiss. It was borne out of the need to connect our souls. I could feel him harden beneath me, his hands grasping my hips before sliding into the hem of my shirt. Alarm bells rang through my mind and I lifted my head, breaking the kiss. "Uh, Tom," I worried, "I don't think I'm ready for this."

He stopped a moment and considered what I was telling him. His eyes widened. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "I...are you alright? Have you not healed?"

"It's not that," I excused as I rolled next to him and laid on my stomach. "Physically, I'm fine," I mumbled. "It's just that..." I tried to think of how to word it so I wouldn't offend him. "I'm not mentally ready for sex. I mean, Paul did a lot of damage here," I tapped my head. "And, well... I'm afraid if we did right now that it might trigger something and I'd flip out on you."

"I understand," he groaned, sitting up on the pull out and wrapping his arms around his knees. "I should probably sleep downstairs, then."

He moved to get up and I grabbed his arm. "No!" I argued. "Stay with me. Please."

Looking into my desperate eyes, he shrugged. "No, it's better this way. I don't want to do anything that either of us will regret." Pulling away from me, he grabbed one of the blankets and one of the pillows Dan had stacked on a chair for us and trudged down the stairs to my apartment. I heard him mumble something that I couldn't make out and then the door slammed shut. And then silence. Lonely, separate bed silence.


	21. Chapter 21

I was swimming through murky waters, unable to see where I was, surrounded by creatures that I had no idea existed trying to capture me, nibbling at me as I began to struggle. My lungs began to fill with water and I tried to scream, only nothing came out. My hands and feet flailed as best as they could, only partially capturing the air above. A hand grabbed me and I heard my name shouted from what seemed to be a million miles away as my world began to turn dark. "Lora!" The voice cut through the dusk. "Lora, wake up!"

My eyes flew open in alarm as I was pulled from my nightmare. "I'm awake, I'm awake," I gasped, my lungs still feeling tight and clogged by imaginary water.

Tom was kneeling on the fold out next to me, his face showing his near panic. "Oh, goodness," he gushed as he held one hand onto his chest, the other holding my hand. "You sounded like you were choking to death." After a moment, he asked, "Are you alright?"

I nodded. "It was just a horrible dream," I answered, still slightly incoherent. "I was drowning."

He plopped down next to me and reclined on his elbow. "I'm glad," he smiled tiredly. "I couldn't lose you now." 

As I woke up more, I realized how tired he looked. He had dark bags under his eyes that made him look haggard, his hair was mussed and going every which way and he'd stripped down to just a pair of red boxers. "Not much sleep in the basement?" I asked as I reached up and curled a tendril of his hair around my finger. "You look like you've been through the ringer. "

"No," he shook his head. "I couldn't sleep down there." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Not after the way we left things last night." He had been looking out the window, but his gaze directed at me. "Will you forgive me for being an arse?"

"Tom," I said as I rolled and sat up on my elbow, "You weren't an arse." I kissed him softly.

"Yes, I was," he disagreed. "I left you all alone up here because I was too fucking concerned what you would think of me if I did stay and we ended up making love anyways."

"Oh my God, Tom!" I rolled my eyes. "Can you use a term that's more antiquated here?" I was joking, but the minute I looked back at him, I knew I'd made a mistake. He was staring at me in horror, his eyes full of hurt. That look, the big puppy dog eyes, shot right through any amusement I had. 

"Well, what would you call it, then?" he asked somberly. "Because the word 'fuck' connotes very little emotional attachment, as does any other term I could think of right now, and 'intercourse' sounds so clinical." He got so wordy when he was nervous and now was no different. 

I scooted closer to him and rolled onto my back, pulling him over me, his face inches from mine. Just as I was about to say something profound as I gazed into those blue eyes, we heard Dan yell from the other room, "Intimacy! You call it intimacy!"

Tom's sullen look and my concern both melted as we began giggling, trying not to let Dan hear us and failing miserably. We laughed even harder, enough to begin gasping for air. I let out the requisite snort and Tom just about lost it, his face was completely red, his eyes dripping with tears of laughter. "Oh, God, my stomach," I managed to groan in between outbursts. "Ow!"

"That was classic," Tom managed to say as the wave of hilarity began to wane.

As my wracks of laughter subsided, I agreed. "Yeah, it was."

As quickly as the reign of amusement had begun, it was over, replaced by heat. Tom leaned over me, his hands rested on either side of my shoulders and pressed his lips against mine. I let out a little moan and he kissed me even harder, as though funny had transferred its energy into a fever. We were both covered with a thin sheen of sweat from our crack-up and, as he pressed his bare chest against the skin that was bared from my tank top, it felt like we were melding together. I didn't want to have to tell him to stop and I didn't really want him to stop. I put my hands on his shoulders and began to push him off me when a noise startled both of us. As I rolled my head towards the area where the sound had come from, I saw Dan standing in the doorway. "Ahem," he cleared his throat again and Tom raised his head to look at him. "There will be none of that in my living room on my pull-out," he announced. 

"It's okay, Dan," I said as Tom let me sit up. "It wasn't going to go that far." 

Dan walked over to the end of the pull-out and sat down. "Your man says otherwise," he nodded at Tom and winked at me.

I glanced over at Tom just as he looked down and noticed his own excitement pitching a tent. He turned red and grabbed a pillow, covering himself and giving Dan and I a sheepish grin. "Yeah, um, sorry," he grimaced as we both stifled our own giggles. 

"Well, it's a good thing I got assigned to Lora and not you," Dan quipped. "I have a feeling things would have been made extremely difficult." 

"Why's that?" I asked. "Tom's not difficult."

Dan scooted closer to me and grabbed my hand from its place on the bed. Tom looked alarmed until Dan said, "Lora, dear, I..." he took a deep breath before continuing, "There's a reason I've never been married."

"Well, yeah," I responded. "You already told me. You wanted to protect people and it wasn't the best thing for you..."

He shook his head. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone," he said quietly. "I...I..." I could see his lip quivering as he tried to get it out. I had never seen this man, this rock, all six feet, 230 pounds of him, ever look frightened. And he did, now. "I'm gay," he finally finished. By the look on his face, it was both a burden and a relief, this little revelation. 

I know I was shocked and by the way Tom was sitting, I could tell he was shocked. "You've never told anyone?" I asked.

"No," Dan answered. "When I was in the Navy, it was don't ask, don't tell. The same policy seems to be in effect on the police force." He shrugged. "Not officially, of course, but the last guy that came out was virtually run out of the force."

I could see why he was on the verge of tears now, and it all made sense. "Have you ever been in love?" I knew it wasn't the kind of question he expected, but it was the only one I thought to ask. I felt Tom slide his arms around me and pull me into him as we waited for an answer.

Dan nodded. "Yeah," he sighed, a sad little smile spreading across his face. "I met him in my old precinct. His name was Corey and he was wonderful. He was an artist, always full of ideas and so much good hope." He looked at Tom and said, "Corey was a lot like you."

Tom gave him a smirk and a slight nod. "What happened?" he asked Dan.

Dan sighed. "He was my partner." His eyes watched us keenly, trying to pick up on anything that might stop him from continuing. "When you're partners, you trust each other with your lives and you like to think you know the details of your partner's life implicitly, but I never told him how I felt."

"You didn't?" I asked, my heart dropping for my friend as I saw the pain in his eyes.

Shaking his head, Dan pursed his lips. "No. I... I..." His lower lip began to quiver. "I didn't want to risk either of our careers. We were performing a routine traffic stop. I was in the passenger seat and Corey had gotten out of the car. He approached the vehicle we had stopped and the man inside..." His voice broke as he began to sob. When he started speaking again, it was barely audible. "He shot him."

Tom's arm was behind me, but it tightened around me, pulling me even closer to him. "I'm so sorry, Dan," he said sympathetically. 

With a wipe of his hand across his nose, Dan sniffled, "I found out about Corey's feelings for me at his funeral. His brother told me that Corey was afraid to act for exactly the same reasons I was." He took a deep breath. "I never knew."

"Dan," I said softly as I loosened myself from Tom and scooted to the end of the mattress, gently laying my hand on his arm. "I'm sorry." 

He patted my hand, his eyes communicating how grateful he was. "I just couldn't watch you make the same mistake."

"Thank you," I smiled as I gave him as much of a hug as I could. 

Tom joined us, wrapping his long arms around the both of us. "I can't thank you enough, Dan," he said.

The three of us stayed that way for a few minutes, until Dan thought to look at the clock and realized he needed to get ready for work and unpeeled us from him. "If you wouldn't mind driving me to the precinct, you can borrow my car," he said as he left the room.

"What happened to your car?" Tom asked as I climbed off of the pull out.

"The asshole trashed it," I answered glumly.

He chuckled. "So we're referring to Paul as 'The Asshole' now, is it?"

"The more I distance myself from him, the better off I'll be," I answered. Realistically, the name in my mouth felt like chewing on hot sand, dry, scorching, restricting me, choking me. "I'm heading down for a quick shower. Would you like me to save you some hot water?" I saw Tom nod just as I disappeared down the stairs.

The water was warm, renewing. It helped me shake off the rest of the cold, damp mantle my nightmare had left me with. Despite the laughter and the tears thereafter, it clung to me and I shivered. I couldn't help but wonder if the dream was indicative or even prophetic of something in my life, something that, if left unchecked, would drown me as surely as any body of water. Smiling to myself, I remembered Tom pulling me from the murk and the mire, from the lake, from the nightmare, rescuing me. And then it dawned on me. The lake, the drowning, had all been Paul. Now that I thought of it with a clearer head, the creatures feeding off me all had his face. Not literally, but figuratively, each one of them represented a side of him that I had hated; I was repulsed by the anger, the addiction, the perpetuity of violence, however in its smallest form, the brutal words that were spewed on a daily basis. 

When I got out of the shower, I was refreshed. Wrapped in a towel, I exited the bathroom and saw Tom squatting on the floor concentrating on a box of my books he had found. One volume was open, his fingers gracefully skimming against the pages as his eyes scanned the text. He was deep in thought and I almost didn't want to disturb him, but I needed to. If he was going to shower at all, he'd need to do it quickly, so we could get Dan to work. I gently laid my hand on the middle of his back, right between his shoulders. He turned his attention to me. "You have wonderful taste in books," he smiled. 

I cast a glance down, to see which one he was reading, and laughed. "I don't think I'd call that one wonderful, though it's one of my favorites." 

He stood up, closing the cover and leaving it on the box. "Oh, come on, now," he scoffed, "'The Fireside Book of Humorous Poetry'" is something everyone needs a copy of."

"And that's why they only printed it once?" I shot back as I embraced him. "Now, if you're going to take a shower, you best do it now," I added. "Dan's on a time-crunch. I can hear him up there. He sounds like a herd of elephants when he's in a hurry."

"Then, my lady, I bid you adieu," Tom grinned as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.


	22. Chapter 22

As soon as Dan had gotten out of the car and disappeared through the doors of the police station, Tom climbed into the passenger seat. "For a huge car, there sure isn't much leg room," he laughed. 

"You should have sat behind me," I replied. "Two tall men on one side of the car doesn't do much for room." I smiled and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as I navigated the car out into the street. "What would you like to do today, Tom?"

"You need new linens," he answered. 

I sighed. "You want to go shopping? I don't have that much money."

He leaned his head on my shoulder. "My treat," he purred. With the look he gave me, there was no arguing with him and I was in the mood to be spoiled. If there was one thing I could submit myself to, shopping was a good start.

We ended up at a strip mall, not overly crowded, but with, hopefully everything I would need. There was a Bed, Bath and a Beyond, a Target, a couple other stores that I didn't foresee needing to visit. Tom was as enthusiastic as a five year old as he jumped from the parked car, wrangled a wayward shopping cart in the parking lot and rode on it careening towards me as I locked the door and stowed the keys in my pocket. "You're not going to ride around like that in the store, are you?" I was smiling, but I hoped he didn't, not because I didn't like seeing this playful side of him, but because I didn't relish the attention something like that would bring.

He came to a stop by my side and in a deft maneuver, brought the cart around in front of me and wrapped himself around behind me, one hand on either side of me on the handle. "Is this better?" he asked.

"Only until I need to reach for something." I demonstrated, most likely looking even more of an ass myself as we walked towards the door like that, but he was grinning at me, his eyes sparkling.

With a peck on my cheek, he replied, "I'll just have to grab it for you, then."

As we entered the store, I leaned my head back against his chest and sighed. I really didn't want to look at anything other than Tom, but I forced my eyes forwards and perused the selections. "You're spoiling me," I groaned as he reached out and grabbed a pair of fluffy pillows and tossed them over my head into the cart. "I don't need new pillows."

"Yes, I am and yes, you do," he laughed. "Those flat bags of stuffing you have don't deserve to be called pillows." It continued around the store, Tom finding things he felt I needed, me arguing why I didn't need it. I knew, ultimately, I did, but it was beginning to get on my nerves. I kept trying to tell him to stop, to let me decide what I needed and I know he was trying to be loving and helpful and spoil me, but it came to a head in the towel section. He had asked me to wait for a moment and returned with an armload of fluffy towels. I, of course, balked, telling him I had packed the towels at the house and brought them with me, that I had plenty of towels. "You need new ones," he said decidedly.

I blew up. "Damn it, Tom!" I yelled, suddenly on the verge of tears. "I need to make my own decisions. You're treating me just like Paul did." I was sure it was a blow to him, but I didn't stick around to see the impact. Instead, I retreated, running to the women's room and locking myself in a stall. I slid down the stainless steel door and squatted next to it, shaking. I didn't want to say things like that, but, I realized, it was true. When Paul and I had bought the house, we went on a shopping spree much like this one. Everyone was happy until decisions had to be made. All of those decisions, of course, were Paul's. Our house had been decorated to his specifications, with the exception of the love seat that I had insisted on and the items for the guest bedroom, because he'd never had occasion to go in there. I, on the other hand, had retreated into that room more than once during a fight. 

My nose was running, so I grabbed a handful of toilet paper from the roll on the wall and used it to blow my nose, thankful that I was the only one in there. It would have been embarrassing to have anyone else witness my emotional outburst and, frankly, I didn't even want anyone to comfort me. There was no comforting from that. What do you say to someone who's been through Hell and is uncomfortable with Heaven?

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door that interrupted my attempts to calm myself. "Lora," Tom called. "I'm sorry. Please come out."

"No," I answered, the room echoing my voice in a way that sounded as hollow as my heart at that moment. Of course, he was there. "Leave me alone, Tom."

"I can't do that," he answered, his voice lowered. "I promised you I wouldn't. We need to talk about this." He sounded defeated, as close to tears as I was and I couldn't help feeling guilty for being responsible for it. "Please?"

"Tom," my voice cracked as a whole new wave of tears strained my throat. I couldn't continue. There was nothing more that I could say, except, "I'm sorry I'm so broken," and I couldn't apologized for that. This had been something my therapist had warned me about, these outbursts.

The door cracked open a little bit. "Are you the only one in there?" There was no one else to answer him, so he took it as a yes. He could tell which stall I was in by the hem of my shirt sticking out under the door. I felt a thump as he put his hands on the door. "Lora, please..."

God, why did he have to be so sweet and understanding? "You didn't ask what I wanted," I explained, trying to keep the tremble of my voice at a minimum. "Paul never let me choose anything and..." I began sobbing. "And now you're doing it too."

"Open the door, Lora, please," he said softly. "Come out and talk to me." He crouched down and I felt his hand reach under the door and press against my leg. 

"Alright," I sighed. I reached up and unlocked it, using the cistern to push myself up. When I opened the stall, he was standing there, tears in his own eyes, arms outstretched. I shook my head. "I don't know what we're doing, Tom."

Defeated, he let his arms fall to his sides. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this, us." I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I've barely been widowed and here I am, playing house with you." 

If the words I'd said were meant to hurt him, they were on point. "This is love," he replied, "Isn't it?"

I closed my eyes and threw my head back, clunking it against the stall door. "It is," I sighed. "But..." I couldn't think. 

Tom closed the gap between us and wrapped his arms around me. "Then that's all that matters," he whispered. "You're not used to this, I know, but I intend to spoil you."

"But I don't want to be spoiled," I protested, my voice muffled by his chest, "I want to be in charge of my own life."

He squeezed me even closer. "And you are. Now, let's go finish picking out what you want in your flat."


	23. Chapter 23

I could only describe my next few days with Tom as pure bliss, despite our rocky start. He helped me get everything put away, and decorated how I wanted and even took me shopping to fill my minuscule kitchen with all my favorite foods. "You're going to make me fat," I complained, joking with him as we sat in my living room.

"I love a woman with curves," he replied calmly. I could see the mischief in his eyes, though, as he reached past me and grabbed a handful of peanut M&Ms from the bowl sitting on the end table next to me. "Besides," he said as he popped some in his mouth, "This way, you won't get upset with me when I eat chocolate." 

We had purchased a small cot that he set up in the corner of my apartment to sleep on, still insisting that, if he were to stay the gentleman he was, he better not share my bed for the duration of his stay. I let him think he was valiant, but I really longed to be held by him and fall asleep in his arms. He never told me how long he was able to stay and I never asked, preferring to not think of us as tenuous, instead wanting to keep him there with me forever, bumping into each other in my tiny apartment, taking mini sojourns to the stores, not worrying about anyone but us, and Dan. 

Tom and I both worried about Dan. Since his revelation, he had drawn into himself, grown haggard, not bothering to shave. He told me it was for an undercover job, but I didn't believe him and my suspicions were confirmed when he shaved it off the next day. I thought Dan would always be strong, but, as it turned out, Dan was only strong for me. Now that I had Tom, he didn't need to be and everything else weighed him down. We'd tried to talk with him seriously, but Dan couldn't be serious. He would joke and avoid the direct questions we asked. It became a dance between the three of us. "I think Dan needs to meet someone," Tom commented after one particularly brutal episode of avoidance.

"No," I answered, "He's afraid to because of the department. He needs a new job, first."

We both knew that was impossible, so we gave up, interacting with Dan as though we hadn't just spent a week trying to cheer him up. That ended up backfiring as well, as soon as Dan and I each received wedding invitations from Hallie and Chris. Honestly, I'd barely spoken to her since I'd gotten out of the hospital and, though we had been thick as thieves before, felt like we didn't even know each other any more. Mine was addressed to my old house and forwarded. She didn't even know I had moved. Of course, both were addressed with a "Plus 1." I had Tom, Dan had no one and it sent him into a tailspin, until Tom suggested he just bring me. "You don't want to go?" I asked. I had assumed Tom would be there with me.

"I'm sorry, Darling," he said, "But I've got a movie I'll be filming then. I don't want to miss it, but I have to." And there it was, the end of our bliss together had a due date.

"When do you leave?" I asked, my breath barely there. It felt like I had the wind knocked out of me.

Tom could see the sadness in my eyes and he held me close. "In two weeks," he replied softly. "I'll be back for you, though."

I knew that tears had no place, but they came anyways. All it meant was that we needed to make the most of our time together, but I couldn't help but feeling like it was a loss. He let me sniffle into his shirt for a bit before tipping my chin up to his face, kissing me softly and whispering, "I love you, there's no way I'd leave you behind."

Work came the following week, my entire reserve of sick and vacation time having been drained by then. I balked, but Tom offered to drive me the first day back and visit the kids again, this time not in costume. I agreed, only because I knew they'd love it. The whole time I'd been gone, I'd kept tabs on Joey, who'd been making progress and they hoped would be in full remission and released soon. I made sure to dress in my princess scrubs because those had proved to be a favorite amongst the kids, and Tom had gone out and bought himself some, which, unfortunately because of his height were available only in blue or green. He chose blue. 

We arrived to all my co-workers applauding, mostly my return to work, but also because of Tom, who was his charming, humble self, even as he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. It almost felt like he was claiming me, subtly, but making it known that I was his, and I liked it. Paul had never done anything like that. He had never met any of my co-workers, barely knew any of my friends, claimed me only when he didn't like something about what I was doing and then it was that I was his stupid wife. Tom made me feel protected. "How long are you visiting today?" my boss asked him once the fanfare had died down.

"All day, if you'll have me," he answered, smiling brightly. 

She chuckled. "If you're sure you can take it all day, be my guest."

While we rode the elevator to my ward, Tom held my hand, squeezing it on and off as he leaned in to kiss me. "Thank you for coming with me today," I mumbled between kisses. "The kids will really love seeing you."

"Well, I love seeing them," he smiled. 

The elevator bounced to a halt and the doors opened to my familiar territory. For me, it felt like home, these sterile hallways and corridors, every bit as much my own as it was a haven for the children, yet, since I hadn't stepped foot there in months, everything was different. As I checked in on the board, patients I'd seen when I was last there had been discharged, replaced by all new faces, as well as little ones like Joey who'd been there since before I'd begun working there and had become every bit as much a part of the scenery as the artwork on the walls. 

I grabbed my clipboard and began to make my morning rounds, Tom following behind me. At that point in the day, most of the kids were awake and engaged in some sort of activity, either as a group, for the stronger ones, or alone, for the more frail ones. One of the nurses gave Tom a stethoscope so if one of the kids asked if he was a doctor, he could play along. Most of them didn't recognize him. I couldn't help but smile at how he was with them, so caring, so tender, not that he wasn't that way with everyone, but with these sick children, it was different. They were so used to being poked and prodded and sick that, for this man to come in and treat them as nothing less than human beings, my heart couldn't help but soar. My day was going to be spent with a big, goofy grin plastered across my face, I was sure.

We continued along my rounds, my duties taking slightly longer than normal on account of getting used to the routine again, the visiting with the kids who missed me, and the need to wrangle Tom when it was time to move on. Before long, it was lunch time. As much as I loved the hospital, lunch was when I needed to leave the hospital, just enough time to ground myself from the emotions that seemed to seep into my skin from the kids and their families. Tom and I decided to eat at the cafe across the street. We sat down at a little table in the corner and perused the menu, Tom deciding on a roast beef and provolone sandwich, my choice being a turkey and cranberry sandwich. He went to order for us while I kept our table, quietly musing over the morning and how much it made me adore him even that much more. When he returned to the table with our food, I commented, "You are so good with those kids."

He sat down and grinned at me as he handed me my plate of food. "I love children," he gushed. "I'd love to have some of my own, someday."

"Well, you'll make a good father," I replied. My heart fell a little. We were still in the early stages of our relationship, so how could I tell him that I would never be able to have children?

Tom noticed the change in my demeanor, despite my efforts to hide it. "Is everything alright?" he asked, placing his hand over mine on the table. I could see the concern in his eyes and I knew he wouldn't let it rest if I tried to brush it off with an "I'm fine." 

I sighed, my breath escaping my lips in a long drawn out stream. "It's really too early to be talking about this," I said, trying to avoid the inevitable. "We haven't even been together that long."

"Darling, I've said something to upset you, what is it?" He gazed at me, trying to catch my eyes in his blue eyes. "Was it the 'someday'?"

Shaking my head, I finally answered. "Tom," I said, my voice beginning to crack, "I work with these kids because I won't ever be able to have any of my own." There it was, out in the open. I closed my eyes, hoping that I hadn't just scared him away.

He said nothing for a moment and I waited for him to get up and leave, but he didn't. "Lora," he said quietly, "I...I..." I flinched as he tried to choose the right words, expecting he would tell me he needed to be with someone who could bore his children. "I don't care," he finally continued. "There's other ways. We could get a surrogate, adoption could be an answer..."

I opened my eyes and a tear rolled down my cheek. He was still fixed on me. "We?" I whispered.

He nodded. "We."

For the rest of the day, I was floating.

We returned to the hospital and continued my rotation, which included the ward Joey was on. The moment I walked through the door, he nearly tackled me, running and jumping onto me with a hug. "My Lora!" he announced excitedly. "You're back!" He didn't even notice Tom following me in and then making his way to the far end of the room.

"I hear you're feeling much better, Joey," I smiled. "I was so happy to hear that!"

Joey shimmied back down me and stood with his hands rested on his bony little hips. "Why were you gone for so long?" he asked, scrunching his freckled face into a scowl.

"Well," I took a deep breath, "I was captured by an evil troll and kept in his dungeon." I waited for Joey to respond, but he didn't, his attention drawn away from me by the sound of "Ehehehe," at the end of the room.

"Who's that?" he asked as he began walking across the linoleum towards the group of kids that were gathered there.

I followed him. "Joey, that's my friend, Tom," I answered. As we approached, we found the kids enthralled by an animated story Tom was telling, all of them standing in awe and hiding his own six foot two frame as he sat on a bean bag chair.

As Tom saw us, he looked up and smiled. "Lora, will you please help me out with this story?" When I scoffed, he slid off his seat and patted it. "I'll even give you the bean bag chair." 

I rolled my eyes, but, of course, played along, inviting Joey to sit on the seat next to me while Tom used me as a living prop. I made the appropriate faces, let him move me as he needed, raising my arms in an awkward position if that's what he needed to do, all for the entertainment of the kids. Honestly, their smiles and laughter were the crowning point of the whole afternoon. Our performance lasted only a few minutes, but its effects would last beyond that, I felt, not only for our pint-sized audience, but for Tom and I as well.

He followed me as I finished my rounds in that ward. At one point, I heard Joey asking him questions like, "Are you Loki?" and "Aren't you supposed to be the bad guy?" Tom played along, laughing and giving Joey his best evil Loki voice.

As I ushered Tom out of the ward, I felt a tug on my shirt. I turned around and there was Joey, motioning for me to come down closer to him. I leaned over and he cupped his hand around my ear, whispering, "He might be the bad guy, but he's really a prince. You should marry him."

"Thank you, Joey," I answered back, giving him a thumbs up. I stood back up, ready to leave for the day, waved to the kids and joined Tom in the hallway.


	24. Chapter 24

My last week with Tom slowly wound to a close. He'd been at the hospital with me nearly every day, just volunteering. The kids loved him, the staff loved him and, it was unanimous, I loved him. I was hoping no one else would be heartbroken when he left, at least not as much as I was. 

We'd settled into an easy, steady rhythm in our days and I was going to miss it. I knew Tom was going to as well. He had become extra-attentive, even going to the extent of planning a romantic dinner at my favorite restaurant the night before he was scheduled to leave. When I'd counted down to the last two days, a deep depression set in. I knew I wasn't losing him, but I felt like I was. Even through all his extra efforts, I couldn't help feeling like a dark veil had settled upon my heart. On the second-to the last night, I could no longer stand the idea of Tom scrunched on the cot he'd bought in the corner of the room. He'd insisted on it, I'd agreed with it, but, as I laid there with my heart feeling like it would break, thinking about life without him there, I began to cry. I attempted to muffle my tears with my pillow, but I heard him stir. In the depth of the darkness, in my alone-ness, I felt the impression of him in the mattress in the bend of my knees as he sat down next to me. "Hey, I'm still here," he comforted as he laid his hand on my side and leaned close to kiss my cheek.

"But, in a couple days, I'll be alone," I sniffled.

He nuzzled my ear. "What can I do to make you feel better, Darling?"

I scooted over in the bed. "Hold me," I whispered. "Just hold me."

I could feel his hesitation for a moment and held my breath, letting it out only when he slid into the blankets behind me, slipping one arm under my pillow and draping the other around my shoulders. I folded myself into him. "Thank you," I whispered. "I just need this."

Tom hummed contentedly as his breath slowed on my neck to a heavy, sleepy pace. I closed my eyes, perfectly at peace at last, surrounded by him.

There was a dream, something that faded to wisps of smoky tendrils that evaporated as I opened my eyes. I remembered nothing from it, save the memory of emptiness that stayed with me. I was still on my side, Tom still wrapped around me, asleep. Loosening his arms around me, I rolled to face him so I could bury my face in his chest and fall back asleep to the beating of his heart. It was enough to rouse him. "Is everything alright?" I heard him whisper.

"Just a dream," I answered. "I'm okay." 

He wrapped his arms around me tighter and pulled me into him. At that moment, I knew everything would be okay. I would be, we would be. I nuzzled against him, my lips finding the soft cleft of his neck just under his Adam's apple and I kissed him gently. He gave out a soft laugh and I did it again, this time sliding up to the flesh of his neck just over his vein, my lips tracing along it. "This could lead to something," he whispered.

"I know," I replied, this time cupping my hand against his cheek and kissing his lips. "I know."

He stopped me and leaned away as best he could. "Are you alright with this?" 

"I am," I sighed. "I love you, you make me feel safe and, because of that, I'm ready." 

He shifted, his weight pushing me to my back as he threw himself into kissing me and exploring me, tenderly making sure that I was okay with how he touched me, listening for my soft moans of approval. We came together like yin and yang, two halves of a whole and, when the morning came, we were still entwined, limbs wrapped together, skin to skin separated by nothing but a thin sheen of sweat.

The sunlight streaming through the gossamer curtains of my bedroom was what woke me up. I was lying on my back, Tom's arm under my neck, his opposite hand flat on my stomach, his legs tangled in mine. I glanced over at him and he smiled dreamily. "You're awake," he said happily.

I nodded. "So are you." It was my day off and I wasn't worried about getting out of bed any time soon.

"I was watching you sleep," he sighed. "You looked so peaceful. I don't think I've ever seen you that peaceful." He reached up and moved a stray hair from my forehead before kissing it. "I wish I didn't have to leave."

"Me, too," I replied, rolling onto my side and embracing him. "I want to stay like this forever." I leaned my ear against his chest. "I want to just listen to your heartbeat and stay safely in your arms."

Tom chuckled. "And I'd love to let you do that all day, but I've got to get all my ducks in a row if I'm going to catch my flight in time tomorrow." He kissed the top of my head. "Shall we get breakfast?"

"Shower first," I said as I sat up and climbed over him. 

He caught me and brought me down straddling him, pulling me into a kiss. "I suppose this will have to wait until later, won't it?" he grinned.

I shot him a knowing look before sliding onto the floor. "Too bad that shower is only large enough for one of us," I teased as I walked through the door. I pulled a clean set of towels from the minuscule makeshift linen closet we had built in the corner by the bathroom door and went in. Tom made some noise getting out of bed and through the paper-thin walls, I could hear him filling up my tea kettle and setting it on the stove. The rest of his puttering was drowned out by the water as I turned the shower on and climbed under the hot water. No sooner had I stuck my head under the stream and closed my eyes, than I was joined, Tom pressing himself up against me. 

"We fit like this," he purred, wrapping his arms around me and turning me around so he was under the water. 

I rolled my eyes. "How are we supposed to wash?"

He grinned and shook his curls at me. Grabbing the bottle of shower gel from a shelf in the corner, he squeezed some on his hand, then rubbed his hands together to get a good lather before using them to swath my body with bubbles. "How about I rub this on you and then you rub it on me?" he asked devilishly.

We finished our shower just as the hot water ran out and emerged from the bathroom sopping wet, our hunger for each other sated, but our bellies rumbling for food. I got dressed quickly and started some eggs cooking in a frying pan, popped some bread in the toaster and poured two cups of hot water for tea before Tom emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a black pullover and jeans. "How do you like your eggs?" I asked, knowing full well what he'd say. But, again, it was part of our morning ritual. 

"Mmmmm," he smiled, "That smells wonderful."

"Sorry, we ran out of bacon," I apologized as I slid the eggs onto our plates and grabbed the toast as it popped from the toaster. "I'll have to get some for tomorrow." As the words came out, I winced. There was no tomorrow for the two of us to sit here and eat bacon and eggs and toast. I carried our plates to the table and set them down. "I'll be right back with the tea," I said softly.

Tom grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. "I'll be coming back," he said. "I'll always come back for you."

I was in a haze for the rest of the day, running errands with Tom felt like so much a part of our regular days that it was hard to imagine that it was our last day together for a while. My mind, I think, was in denial. Tom made me forget about everything but us. Even dinner, though incredibly romantic, was no more than a passing distraction. I really only wanted to be wrapped in his arms and have him never let me go, even though I knew it would be impossible.

That night, I reveled in him. He was mine and I his and we were the only two people amongst a planet full of stars. It was meant to last forever, but the end of forever came too soon in the dawning of the new day, the rush to get everything packed into Dan's car and get Tom to the airport so I could give him a tearful goodbye before he departed for some faraway place.

I was lucky enough to have Dan there as a support, because I could not have withstood the drive home alone. As much as Dan had felt he didn't need to support me with Tom there, he relished being needed that much more by me again. He distracted me from Tom's absence by taking me shopping for a dress for Chris and Hallie's wedding, which was still a couple weeks away, making me help him pick out a nice suit, and suggesting I teach him a thing or two about photography, which meant we spent a good part of the afternoon exploring a neighboring city. 

For the remaining time before Hallie's wedding, I threw myself into work and celebrating the little triumphs that came when one of our little patients was able to finally go home. I was especially emotional when Joey went home. Tom and I spoke on the phone nearly every day. I also re-connected with Hallie, volunteering myself to help her with any last-minute plans which, as it turned out, there were many. We spent more time in Dan's part of the house than my own, mostly because he had more room to lay things out on, but also because Dan had impeccable taste and was ace at helping with some of Hallie's more difficult decisions. 

The three of us had a wonderful time and laughed often, Hallie and I becoming close once again. It didn't occur to me that she had not asked about Tom until she mentioned a double-date with Dan and I. "Dan and I are not together," I replied awkwardly. "Though, if we went out as friends, that would be fine."

Hallie's eyes widened and she stumbled over her words. "But... I ...thought..."

I laughed. "No, I just rent his basement apartment." 

Dan interjected, "Lora's just not my type," which made the two of us howl even harder, adding to her confusion. When our cackling subsided, Dan looked at her somberly and said, "I don't want this to leave this room."

I remained silent, watching Hallie as she said, "Okay..."

"I am not straight," Dan admitted. "Lora and Tom are the only other ones who know."

Hallie smiled. "Dan," she said gently, "Chris has known that about you since day one, he told me."

Dan looked stunned. "He did?"

She nodded. "And I can't wait to introduce you to my cousin at the wedding, then"

From that moment forward, Dan underwent a transformation of sorts. He no longer milled around the house on his days off, he went to the gym, or out for long walks. It was no surprise when, two days before the wedding, he announced that he would be leaving the police force and taking work as a private investigator for a prominent insurance firm. He'd finally figured out how to be happy.

The day of the wedding, Dan was a nervous wreck. We'd arrived early to help with the last-minute preparation. He was already breaking a sweat when Hallie stopped him, right in the middle of hanging flower baskets on the pews in the sanctuary. "Dan," she said, "I'd like you to meet my cousin I was telling you about." Dan turned around and met the eyes of the man standing behind him just as she introduced, "Matt, Dan, Dan, Matt."

Dan wiped the sweat from his hands on his suit pants and held one out. "Sorry, I'm not usually this much of a mess, but your cousin there is a real slave driver," he smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Matt laughed as he took Dan's hand. "Yeah, she can be a real hardass," he winked. "Nice to meet you, too." Hallie and I exchanged knowing looks as they walked away, chattering, getting to know one another.

"I have a good feeling about this," she smiled.

I agreed. "Me, too."

Hallie's wedding went off without a hitch and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, mine included. There were flashbacks of my own wedding to Paul, things that I'd rather have forgotten that came to mind. I tried as hard as I could to suppress them, using Dan's free shoulder to staunch my tears, but it was no use. It was supposed to be a happy day and my past was trying to ruin even that for me. After she and Chris had left the sanctuary and the congregation of friends and family began to filter towards the door to wish them off to the reception, which was being held at a swanky country club on the other side of town, I told Dan I needed to go home. "Stay for just a bit longer," he pleaded. "I really want to get to know Matt some more."

He gave me the puppy eyes he knew I hated. "Fine," I said, throwing my hand up in exasperation, "But you owe me."

We drove to the reception and both Dan and Matt made it their mission to keep my mind occupied with fun things like dancing and food, at least when they weren't occupied with each other. They didn't ignore me, in fact they made a point to include me, but it still didn't keep me from feeling like the awkward third wheel. After the cake was cut and Hallie and Chris had ritualistically shoved handfuls in each others faces, I groaned, "I need to leave. I'll take a taxi if I have to."

"You have to stay for the bouquet," Dan insisted. "After she throws the bouquet, we'll leave. I promise."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're killin' me, Smalls," I complained. But he was happy and I could see that the more he was with Matt the happier he got and for all the grumping and grousing I did, I couldn't take that from him. "Alright."

When it was time for Chris to take off Hallie's garter, all the men milled around, some of them not so enthused about their dates pushing them up there. The garter was thrown slingshot-style into the crowd and caught, I thought, by someone on the other side of the room, but there was no fanfare, only a couple men who expressed their pity on the poor soul who caught it. I assumed it was someone from Chris' side that caught it.

The bouquet toss was next. Dan pulled me from my chair and shoved me to the front of the pack. I wanted to turn back and sit down, maybe make an escape for the door, but the wall of women was too dense for me to get through. Hallie stood, her back to me, flowers in hand. She turned to look over her shoulder and winked at me as she threw it. I figured, since Dan had gone through the effort to get me that prime spot, that I might as well try to catch, it was, after all, a competitive sport. The bouquet came directly towards me and I reached up, catching it securely. It almost felt like the other girls didn't try very hard. I held the flowers down and looked at them. Nestled inside one of the red roses, tied to its stem was a diamond ring. "Um, Hallie," I think you forgot something in the flowers," I shouted over the din of the crowd.

Hallie turned around and smiled. Chris had joined her in the archway and they both stepped to the side. Behind them was Tom. I had to blink to make sure I wasn't seeing things. "Lora," he beckoned.

My feet flew to him and I kissed his face all over. "God, I missed you," I gushed. 

Tom chuckled before taking the bouquet from me, pulling the ring from the rose and kneeling down in front of me. "Lora," he said, both of our eyes beginning to dampen, "You are the love of my life and I absolutely cannot live without you. Will you marry me?"

I nodded, completely verklempt. "Yes," I managed to squeak out as he slid the ring on my finger and stood up. 

My heart soared as he took me in his arms and kissed me. It was the first kiss in the rest of our lives.

~Finis~


End file.
